Unforeseen Consequences: Revelations
by Arjen
Summary: BtVS, Highlander, Noir. Black Sunrise series, part 5. In some universes Cordelia Chase is a normal teenager. In others, she is neither.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Unforeseen Consequences: Revelations**

**Author: Arjen**

**Word count: 80.000+**

**Summary: Sixth story in Black Sunrise. Crossover with Highlander. In some universes Cordelia Chase is a normal teenager. In others, she is neither.**

**Pairings: None.**

**Rating: PG-13.**

**Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Noir, Highlander.**

**Disclaimer: All characters and other recognizable things are property of Mutant Enemy, ADV films, Panzer/Davis, Rysher, and whoever else wants to lay claim to them. Everything that I thought up is made using their property so I can't really claim that either.**

**Feedback: Preferably constructive criticism, tell me what I've done right and wrong and I'll be happy. Flames I consider as written by five years old who according to that ridiculous rating system aren't allowed to read this.**

**Chronology:   
Black Sunrise   
The Day After   
Dark, Darker, …   
Unforeseen Consequences: Heart of Darkness   
Christmas Shopping   
Unforeseen Consequences: Revelations**

**Background: Dawn was created early and the monks weren't stupid enough to lead Glory directly to her. During Halloween '97 she was possessed by Kirika from Noir. Afterwards she retained the memories of this assassin and had gained knowledge of the supernatural. Since then she has tried to learn how to live with the different minds that now inhabit her body. An unfortunate side effect of all this has been that she now experiences dreams that are more real than they should be.**

**Author's note: While it would help to read the previous stories in this series everything that happened there is explained in this one as well. These explanations won't happen immediately though.**

**   
x.x.x indicates a change of POV**

_Every action has consequences, of which at least one cannot be predicted beforehand. When the monks turned the Key into a living being they had not expected her to be possessed by the spirit of an assassin. But what if that had not been the only unforeseen consequence of their action? What if there was another, one that might have even more of an impact on her life?_

**Chapter 1**

"Four… Three… Two… One… Happy new year!" Being hugged by her mother she did her best to both ignore the pain it caused and hide the exasperated way she felt about yet another meaningless ritual. What was it with these people and celebrating everything?

January 1 wasn't any different than December 30, or May 12 for that matter. The only difference she could see was that when you wrote down a date you put down a different number in the year part of it. So what was it that made people want to celebrate this night? Maybe the real owner of this body would have known the answer to that question, but she didn't.

"Happy new year Dawn." Being brought out of her reverie by those words she turned around and nodded her agreement to the girl that uttered them. This one too wanted to hug and kiss, although there appeared to be something holding her back. Kirika might not have known Jane as well as the real Dawn did, but she had a lot of experience reading people and it was obvious to her that that the girl was acting a little stiff.

Just like her—or rather Dawn's—other friend. Ever since she had returned from her trip to Los Angeles she'd felt as if a wide gap separated her from the girls. During Christmas—another useless holiday—she had still believed that she was to blame for it.

The brutality of the events in LA had shocked even her, but for her at least it hadn't been the first time she'd had to deal with guilt. However, when that strange personality had taken over and turned her complete attention to the task of making her enemies suffer, Dawn had been scared into retreating far back into her mind. The madness and total disregard for life simply became too much for her. And now, it was Kirika who had suddenly been assigned the duty of commanding an unknown body, or rather the emotions that it ran on.

The emotionless version of her, the one that she'd believed buried after that confrontation at the Manor, had freely given up control of the body to her, so that the secret would remain just that. Nobody was to know that Dawn was no longer controlling her own body. If anybody would find out, well she wasn't entirely sure what would happen but one of the few things all personalities agreed on was that they were there to stay.

If someone would try to remove them there would be consequences. A high price would have to be paid, a price she didn't believe anyone in Sunnydale was willing to pay. And that was just what the sane ones would do; the actions of the other were as unpredictable as they undoubtedly were gruesome. So, in order to save the lives of those around her, Kirika needed to play the part of Dawn to perfection.

"You too," she finally answered as she broke away from the hug, and even attempted one of her own smiles. The smiles were one of the worst things about the whole impersonation. She still couldn't get them right. Smiling had never been an important aspect of her life, so there had been never been any need to practice it. Under other circumstances it wouldn't have been so bad as people usually recognized the slight lifting of her lips for what it was and simply ignored the sad look in her eyes.

This time it was far more difficult however. Not only couldn't she smile the way Dawn did, but the people around her were very observant. A trait she had never really been fond of when it manifested itself in others. Good observational skills led to people remembering little details and quickly discovering inconsistencies, both things that she definitely couldn't afford to face during her missions.

And despite her youth Jane was one of the most observant people she'd ever met. While the girl might not be the kind of genius that could solve difficult equations in her head, she was very good at connecting the dots. "Are you alright? You do remember that if anything is bothering you, you can always come to me and Sara right?"

"Yeah Dawn, you know that both I and the fashionably challenged are always willing to help you. No matter what." The way those last words had been stressed ignited warning lights all over her mind. They knew.

Shocked by this sudden revelation she looked at Jane's face. Yes, there appeared to be knowledge there, but was it the right knowledge? Had they succeeded where even those who had been present had failed? Did they understand what had actually happened during that faithful Halloween she had been dragged away from Mireille? No, she barely refrained from shaking her head in denial, they couldn't have found out. There just wasn't enough evidence for them to have found out.

But now that the initial shock was starting to wear off, Dawn realized her mistake. While considering the possibility of discovery she had wasted precious time, time that she should have used to make a joke about Sara's teasing or even giving a normal answer. Whatever suspicions her friends had, she had just confirmed them at least partially.

"I know." It wasn't the best answer and, as she was already aware, a little late, but it was better than nothing. In an effort to distract herself she took her glass of champagne and took a sip; only to once again be disgusted by the taste. Just like in Los Angeles, the alcoholic drink didn't taste right. And it wasn't the US wine-industry that was the cause of that problem. No, it was simply that those damn taste buds of hers still weren't able to deal with normal things like wine or champagne.

But once again she had allowed a momentary distraction to take her away from her mission. Keep up the cover of a normal happy Dawn until that personality was able to do so herself. She hadn't expected it to be this difficult though, after all she had some limited access to most of Dawn's memories. Unfortunately, while there wasn't much they could hide from each other, there were a number of things she didn't know. But then again, those things weren't exactly the ones that should have a great impact on her actions right now.

"You say you know, but do you really?" Sara asked, obviously intending to push her into a revelation. Something that had no chance of succeeding, no matter what they tried, now that she was aware of what they wanted. Only through shock would they have been able to reach their goal, and there was no chance of her being that surprised again. She was Noir, she was trained to handle surprises. And turn them against her opponents.

"Of course I do. And you do understand that things like that go both ways, don't you?" It wasn't often she spoke that long a sentence, but as she watched the reaction of the two girls she realized it had been the right choice. She wasn't the only one with a secret. Something had happened while she was in Los Angeles, and unless she was way off the mark it was the reason they suspected something.

Had they? No, the chances of either of them encountering Sunnydale's nightlife, surviving it, and then connecting it to her current situation were just too small. And if they believed she might have knowledge about it, why wouldn't they speak of it? Or did they try to use silent hints? The wooden sword they'd given her for Christmas wasn't exactly a subtle one if that was the case, but she decided that they would never keep something like that from one of their best friends. The three of them had always been open about everything, there was no reason to suspect that her friends would hide something this big.

"Sure, we would never keep anything from you that you didn't already know," Jane said, after a couple of seconds of silence.

But while the answer was telling in its own way, Kirika ignored it. Something else had happened, something that she had been waiting for since Christmas. There was no doubt about what she'd felt, Dawn had actually come out of her stupor for a moment. But what had been the reason? Something that had been said? A thought that had crossed her mind? Or was she breaking out of her catatonic state out of her own volition?

It was Sara who then stopped her from contemplating that moment however as she excitedly told the two of them. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. The fireworks are starting, let's go outside and watch."

Outside? Standing there between the vampires and other human-looking abominations? Once again she felt that emotion she had so little experience with. Fear, she was afraid of the creatures of the night.

In her true life there had been only one kind of creature of the night that counted, and she had been queen among them. But these beings… They were hard to wound, and even harder to actually kill. A single bullet or knife was never enough, and from some of the things she had heard it seemed that sometimes not even killing them was enough. Some of them could come back from the dead, or at least be brought back by some kind of magical ritual.

Always magic; filthy, dangerous magic. The one thing that was at the core of all her fears. She could fight things that obeyed the laws of nature, the strongest man would die if you stabbed him in the heart or put a well-placed bullet in his brain. But with these magical creatures, who knew what they might survive?

Stepping out where the cool sea wind could caress her face, she exorcised those thoughts and worries from her mind and instead focused on the beautiful lightshow. Fireworks, where there was fireworks, there was black powder. Could she make use of that knowledge? No, Dawn would be impressed by the sight, not trying to figure out the tactical advantages, especially as there were better alternatives anyway. Focus on pretending to really be Dawn.

It wasn't until several hours later, shortly before going to bed, that she allowed her earlier questions to resurface again. Both Jane and Sara had been acting normally for the rest of the evening, so she had allowed herself to forget about her doubts again. But now that she didn't have to focus on anything else anymore she could spare some time for it. Besides, she hadn't written about the day's events in either of her diaries yet.

The diaries were a leftover from the Dawn personality, a personality she really hoped would be back soon. Never intending to stop writing about the events she experienced, Dawn had kept up her habit. The only change being that she considered her old diary the public one, and wrote everything important in another book, in Japanese. Strangely enough, after taking over Kirika had never even considered stopping writing about the events that took place.

A choice that was made without even considering the need to stay undercover. No, the real reason for the second diary was the feeling of helplessness as she'd run around on that Halloween, looking for information about where she was. That was something that should never happen again and, considering the amount of magic that was used in this town, you never knew when someone might mess with your mind again.

Having finished that diary, she continued in the one that Dawn would keep. Kirika was totally immersed in that task, but even while describing a particularly beautiful flower made from firework, she couldn't get all the annoying questions out of her mind. She kept pondering the events of the night, and in the end decided it might not be a bad idea to try to get some more information from her, or rather Dawn's, friends tomorrow. That situation might still be salvageable, and she didn't want to hurt Dawn anymore by alienating her best friends.

Having made this decision, she finished her daily writings and prepared for bed. While putting on her pajamas however, there was one unbidden question that she couldn't get out of her mind, a question that scared her more than anything else possibly could.

If these beings were so hard to kill, and could live for hundreds of years, did that make them immortal? Vampires couldn't be immortal, they were dead, but what about those countless demonic species? Was there one among them that could be considered truly immortal?

x.x.x

It was a beautiful spring day, or at least that's what Cordelia was trying to convince herself of. Nothing was about to go wrong, and she would enjoy the sunshine. Yes, maybe she'd go to the beach and walk off some of the stress. No! There was no stress, life was perfect, so she might as well have some real fun and go shopping.

Stepping out of the school proved that she was only fooling herself into believing that, as she couldn't help noticing the different way in which she was being treated now. The jocks turned away from her, the Cordettes—who got their status thanks to her—turned with them, but made certain she would be able to see them laugh. Laugh at her. And the reactions from the other people who noticed her weren't anywhere near as respectful as she was used to.

How had it come to this? A week ago her reputation hadn't been as high as before she started publicly dating Xander, but at least it hadn't received its death knell yet. How could that no-good insignificant little man dare to cheat on her with what was probably the only person that stood below him on the food chain? If she ever found out who it was that had told people about it, she would make sure that they'd regret it for the rest of their lives. Long, healthy, years full of suffering. Death was too good for them.

"Hey Cordy." Cordelia turned around to glare at the person who dared to interrupt her glorious suffering. Nobody had the right to interfere when she was having such tragic thoughts. And when she saw that she had recognized the voice correctly she narrowed her eyes as her anger grew to epic proportions.

"What?" she asked Buffy. "Do you want to pour some salt on the wounds? Drive me even lower into the ground? Or do you just want to be there when the Titanic sinks?"

"Huh? Titanic?" the blonde looked confused for a moment before answering the questions. "Nah, I'm not here to do anything like that. It's more like that I… I don't know. I just think it's unfair to you that you're the one that's suffering because of all this."

"You want me to believe that you're doing this 'cause you feel sorry for me?"

"I guess." The impertinence. Who did this bleach-blond, stuck up, no good loser think she was?

"Then you can leave. I don't do the compassion thing." Having said that she turned away from the girl, who was probably only trying to make peace, and stormed off to her car.

"But…" Buffy obviously didn't feel she should give up just yet. Cordelia had other ideas about that however and ignoring the shout continued on her way, shoving away everybody who dared to cross her path at the wrong moment.

Who did these people think they were dealing with? She didn't need any help. She had always been able to deal with anything that came her way, well except for that one small little matter, but that had been so long ago it didn't really count.

"Hey, watch it," some inconsequential kid said as she bumped into him, and if she had been in a better mood she would have enjoyed flaying him with her tongue for that show of impertinence. But she wasn't in a better mood and she wavered between doing him some real physical harm and ignoring him.

After a couple of agonizing moments she chose the path of the wise, and simply walked past where he was already lying on the ground. Strange how her mood wasn't even good enough to get some satisfaction out of the fact that he had landed in some dirt.

The further she walked however, the less people got in her way. Cordelia wasn't sure whether that was because they had seen her approach, or because this part of the schoolyard just wasn't as busy. Not that it mattered to her, as long as all of them got out of her way. Luckily it wasn't long before she reached the parking lot and with a sigh of relief she zeroed in on the beautiful convertible carrying the custom license plate.

'Queen C, That's me,' Cordelia thought and finally let some of her bad mood evaporate. The constant reminder of who she was always managed to do that to her, which of course had been one of the reasons she'd bought it. Combined with the wind she would soon feel caressing her face as she raced her way to the mall—or would it be the beach after all?—she was pretty sure that her bad mood would be gone within hours. At least until tomorrow, when the whole sordid affair would start over again.

Upon reaching the door to her car however she had a feeling there was something wrong, but couldn't immediately find anything. Only when she lowered her eyes to the tires did she notice the two flats. Two? That couldn't be an accident. Walking around it to the other side she found that it wasn't only the two tires on the driver's side. Somebody had been an equal-opportunity tireslasher.

"Oh, look at the poor little girl. Her little car all messed up," came the mocking sound from behind her and she turned around to spear the perpetrators with a defiant stare. If they expected her to react to something like that they had the wrong idea. She didn't recognize the kids, but figured they were probably one ridiculous gang or another. After all, the existence of real gangs was a must if all the vampire activity was to be successfully blamed on them.

The fact that gangmembers had a much higher chance of actually being turned was also the most likely reason the average minion was so stupid. After all, most of them were addicts and therefore weak in every possible way. Those idiots with a habit of taking hard drugs were even worse as that stuff messed with their brains. Which was after all one of the things that stuff had in common, whether it was PCP, alcohol, or nicotine.

The fools didn't seem to be impressed with her action however and just started laughing, probably because of whatever high they had just scored. "You know guys, I think somebody was a bad boy and slashed her tires. I wonder who that might have been." And with another cackle of mad laughter the lesser being started lazily flipping a knife in the air.

It had been them. They were the ones that had desecrated her beautiful car. And now they thought they could get away with taunting her about it. All the frustration of the entire day collided at that moment. Every single moment she'd had to keep herself in check, every time she'd wanted to hurt someone for what they were doing to her. All of them combined into a single ball of hatred, and made her reach a boiling point. And for the first time in several years, Cordelia Chase let go of the control that had ruled her life during that time.

Casting a quick look around she didn't see anyone around who might be surprised by her behavior and stalked toward the group of thugs. With every single step she took part of her cover was dismissed, and her stride became ever more confident, as she once again started to exude the authority that was hers by right of birth. The only thing she regretted about the situation that was about to occur was that she couldn't have them flogged for what they did to her car. In her experience that scum of the earth known as criminals had mostly kept their place when punishments like that had still been allowed.

Before she reached them however, Cordelia remembered to take her jacket off and throw it back at her car. It missed of course, but at least dirt was relatively easy to clean. "What're you gonna do, chicky?" the overly confident leader asked, obviously not able to recognize true authority when he faced it.

Not deigning to let that foolishness deter her, Cordelia walked until she stood right before him and leaning forward, until her face was only inches from his, she spoke in a calm and collected tone of voice. "Once upon a time I would have had you drawn, quartered and beheaded for a crime such as this. Aside from that, your family would have been ruined in every aspect, except that they would have remained alive; always knowing that your bones had been picked clean by the ravens as your head was adorning a stake in front of my family's mansion. In these less civilized times however, I find that I am forced to satisfy myself with some mere physical means of retribution."

"Huh?" Clearly a statement like that went over this despicable creature's head, but what else could you expect from these traitors to the crown? "Are you like dissin' me or something? I don't take that y'know."

"My dear, low-born, piece of horse dung," Cordelia started, hoping this would finally penetrate the other's befuddled brain. "Yes, I am dissing you. In fact I'm dissing you so hard that, in the unlucky event that you'd happen to breed, your children would feel dissed."

And that did indeed manage to make him lose his temper, although his reaction wasn't quite the punch and some incoherent mumbling, or shouting, she'd expected. Someday she would remember how bad she was at strategy before she started picking a fight.

The moment that the knife entered her abdomen she did her best to ignore the pain, but it was difficult. On the other hand, it wasn't something she was unable to deal with. In the name of fashion she had endured some very painful times, and it wasn't exactly the first time somebody stabbed her either.

Of course, this was the second time in less than two weeks that her stomach had to endure something like this. And experience didn't stop it from feeling as if the entire court was dancing on her entrails either. Luckily the shocked look on the goon's face offered some useful distraction. He had probably expected her to either back away, or even fall down. Well, if he did he was as successful in predicting human behavior as she was.

Because instead of backing off, or doing anything else that someone of her standing should have done, she slapped the boy. "Bad boy."

"What?" Shocked by her behavior the fool stepped back, allowing her the chance to back him up against the wall. There was no way she believed that the silly slap she'd managed could have caused this, so it was the fear of the unknown that did. Something Cordelia had every intention of milking to its fullest effect.

Once she had him against the wall however, she was faced with a decision. A decision that would have to be made soon. While the knife that was still sticking from her stomach hadn't caused anything close to a lethal wound, she had no intention of staying here until anyone else would arrive. Walking around with a wound like that wouldn't help exactly help her regain her deserved status.

The decision wasn't really a hard one, kill him, or not. In a way she really wanted to kill him, but she really didn't want all the trouble that would come with it. Besides, no matter what had happened in her life, she had no intention of casually killing anyone. Not even a lowlife like this. So, choosing the other option, she put a genuine angry snarl on her face and grabbed the guy at the lapels of his jacket while pulling him closer to her own face until she could smell how difficult it probably was for him to use a toothbrush.

"If I ever see you again, you'll wish I'd killed you today." And with that warning delivered she rammed her right knee straight up and, more than satisfied with the way he went cross-eyed, let him drop down to the floor.

Stepping back from the kneeling boy she pulled the knife out of her stomach and, wiping the bloody weapon clean on their leader's clothes, Cordelia growled at the boys who were still standing there with their mouths open. "Scram!"

Well, would wonders never cease? They actually did as she'd ordered, which left only the leader to deal with, before taking a well-deserved rest. Turning back around to the moaning heap of pitiful flesh she lifted her leg once again, and her satisfaction increased once more as she heard the crunching sound caused by the impact of her expensive shoes on the unworthy recipient's nose.

It was only when the boy didn't move at all that Cordelia considered checking if he was still alive. Putting her hand at his throat she checked for a pulse, breathing in relief when she discovered one. Good, she hadn't killed him. Killing people always caused such a mess, which was one of the reasons she detested the Game.

That and the fact that having to fight someone with a sword was a very risky business, the problem with fights like that had in her opinion always been twofold. First there was the fact that she wasn't a good swordfighter, as a child she had been taught that fighting was the business of men and all she had to do was keep some good ones close by. Which led immediately to the second concern.

She had always considered swordfights to be a matter of luck and—despite what Hollywood tried to show people these days—they rarely lasted more than a couple of minutes. In that short time however she would have to be lucky several times while all her opponent would require was a single moment where her luck ran out.

Those were odds she didn't care for, and she didn't understand why hardly anybody else seemed to figure that out. It didn't matter how good you were, in the end you'd face someone who was just a little bit luckier than you. Someday you'd trip during a fight and end up on the wrong side of the sword. But despite that, there were still people running around waving their swords as if it truly mattered who won that stupid Game of theirs.

But there too the ancient adage was proved true. Wisdom truly did come with age as practically everyone running around hunting people was young. Whether that was because the old ones had gotten smart or had simply run out of luck wasn't all that important, but it was always the young ones.

Young ones. How ridiculous was it for her to call someone else young? A rather large number of Immortals were older than her, including some of those who were still actively hunting. Shaking that thought off, she brought her attention back to the boy. He would live, and if she didn't want to run the risk of anyone finding her like this she really should leave.

Still, her stomach hurt terribly and lifting her shirt she took a look at the wound decorating it. Why did this have to take so long to heal? Had that part of the spell really been necessary? Sure, it was obvious that nobody could sense her quickening, and the whole memory deal to make her fit in with these people couldn't have been avoided. But why take her healing as well? It took hours to heal something as superficial as a normal cut. Who was she kidding? She knew how long this took but with a bit of luck it would at least heal faster than the wound she'd had after that zeppo had cheated on her.

Taking some bandages from where she kept them in her car, something she'd started doing after she'd been hurt one too many times, she quickly improvised something that looked like it might work. Patricia would be able to handle the rest, and after taking one last look at the boy who'd dared to hurt her she took off for home.

After walking for almost five minutes, she was starting to feel a bit better again. It helped that the street she was walking through appeared mostly deserted, which meant that there wasn't anyone who'd ask her questions about the pain she was so obviously suffering. If anyone in Sunnydale would even notice something like that. Despite that Cordelia really hoped that nobody she knew would come out of one of those houses to talk to her.

Hah! She shook her head in disgust. With her reputation so completely destroyed there was no danger of that happening. Of course, while passing one of the alleys she would have done her best to avoid during the night the world apparently decided it was time to come crashing down around her anyway.

"Cecilia." She could almost taste the hatred in the voice as its owner snarled her name. The hatred in that voice was so clear that Cordelia Chase, student of Sunnydale High, turned with trepidation to look into the alley. Only to see someone she'd hoped to never lay her eyes on again. Why did this happen now? With no man around to manipulate into fighting this battle for her? While she was still wounded?

And to make matters worse, she wasn't even carrying any weapons aside from the worthless knife she'd just taken, and her personal dagger. If there was one thing she'd learned though, it was that sometimes you just had to roll with the punches life sent your way. Which was why she opened her mouth to say the only thing that came to mind.

"Hello slave."

x.x.x

It was still far too early in the morning when Kevin noticed his assignment's phone ring, and for a moment he wondered what kind of fool would be up at this time of the morning. Six o'clock wasn't a time people should be calling each other. Of course, there were circumstances for which a time like that might be necessary, but he was quite certain Richard Washington wouldn't receive a phone call about his sick grandmother.

But whatever the reason, the Immortal answered the phone and after a hesitant start soon started acting very agitated. An action that caused Kevin to curse the fact that he didn't have a tap on the Immortal's phone; it would have been so much easier had he been able to hear the conversation. But of course, his Immortal wasn't important enough for what little trouble his bosses would have to go through.

With a look of disgust on his face he considered the ridiculous amount of paperwork he'd had to go through, only to have the request denied. And look! Now he needed it, and no doubt he'd be blamed for his failure. Even hearing one side of the conversation would have been nice, but Washington was paranoid about bugs and probably would have found them during his next periodic check.

A parabolic microphone might have worked too, but he had always considered that to look far too cheesy to actually use. And he'd never really needed it before; the routine his assignment followed was almost like a script that happened every single day. Washington would get up at five-thirty in the morning and after taking care of his needs would go running from about six to seven. Once he returned there would be sword practice until it was time for him to go to work. Of course Kevin should have realized that this script might change and now he'd lost his chance to listen in. Peering through the carefully concealed telescope he noticed that, after hanging up, the schoolteacher didn't even go outside for his run.

For the first time in the seven years that he'd been the man's Watcher, the routine changed; and Kevin was pretty sure that couldn't possibly be a good thing. He was a Watcher however, and if something suddenly changed the behavior of his Immortal, he needed to find out what it was. So, for the next forty-five minutes he was busy perusing the Chronicles of Richard Washington, an Immortal who was believed to be at least 300 years old but whose early past was still shrouded in mystery.

He had always been fond of his assignment, something that was hard not to be when it came to that man. Not an active participant in the Game, he had only taken five heads. The only remarkable thing about that had been that of those five, three had been during the Civil War. Like all Americans, Immortals had been forced to choose a side during that war, and sometimes when they encountered each other that meant they would fight. In many cases it had been thought enough for the other to die a temporary death, but sometimes heads had been taken.

According to Washington's Watcher at the time all three of these fights had been at the instigation of the people that lost their heads. But as the two of them had been fighting in the same unit, that could just as easily have been a cover-up to make his friend look better. Or was that too paranoid a thought? No, it had been proved that not all Watchers could act impartial when it came to their Immortals, so he had to at least consider the possibility.

Back to his assignment; while the man wasn't important enough to the Watchers for them to spend a lot of time speculating about his background, Kevin had found out that the man absolutely loathed slavery. And if you combined that fact with the way he was so paranoid about being overheard it led to the conclusion that he had probably been a slave. Which made the deaths of those three Immortals seem a lot more suspicious.

While that was interesting to read and think about however, it didn't exactly help him in any way. The other two challenges had without a doubt been instigated by his opponents, and as the last one had been over sixty years earlier, Washington could hardly be called an active hunter. Which made his actions seem a lot more worrying. The only other Immortal he'd heard about who had suddenly reentered the Game again was Duncan MacLeod.

Sure, the guy was supposed to be on the side of angels and one of the main contenders for the prize, but that didn't mean he had to like his own assignment taking a similar path. People around Macleod had the nasty habit of dying, and not only the guilty either. Both innocents and even some Watchers had met their demise because of Macleod's interference.

However, before he drew the wrong conclusions about his Immortal's behavior, he really should try to find some answers himself.

….…

"Oh, hello Kevin." Washington waved him in, clearly distracted by whatever the call had been about. It was obvious that the man had been thinking ever since he'd received the call, so much in fact that he hadn't even changed out of his workout clothes despite the fact that it was very unlikely he was going to do any running.

"I don't have all that much time, but I missed you this morning and wanted to make sure you were alright," Kevin answered as he stepped inside. He felt a drop of sweat work its way down his back and shifted his shirt a bit to intercept it. It hadn't been easy, making himself look as if he'd just spent his normal hour of exercise in only a couple of minutes, but he had succeeded.

"I'm fine, it's nothing."

While he hadn't really expected anything else, Kevin still felt a sliver of disappointment, but he hadn't come here to give up. "Ah, ah. If it had been nothing you would've shown up. And besides, you don't look as if it's nothing."

"Just leave me alone," Washington immediately bit back, and this time Kevin didn't need to fake the surprise that showed on his face.

"Hey, relax man. I'm on your side, remember?"

Guilt crossed the other's face and he rejoiced in the knowledge that he'd taken the right course in this small battle of wills. Were all Immortals this easy to fool? Or was it that strange innate sense of trust Washington had? And thinking about that trust, where did that come from? If he'd really been a slave how could he so easily trust other people, or was that part of the Immortal psyche? The ability to shrug of terrible events?

He suddenly noticed Washington had started talking again, and quickly returned his attention to the man's words. "…a phone call, and now I'm debating on what to do."

"Phone call? This is about a phone call?" Allowing a shocked expression to come forward, Kevin sounded horrified when he posed his next question. "Oh no, nothing happened to your family did it?"

"What? No, this doesn't have anything to do with my family. It is a personal matter though and I'd really rather not tell you about it."

"If you're sure, but you do realize that I'm more than willing to listen and help with your problem don't you? And you know I wouldn't tell anyone about it." That last, bald-faced lie was the one real regret he had about befriending his assignment. It wasn't that he minded reporting on the man's every move, it was just that he didn't like the fact that he had to lie about it to his friend.

"I know that, but there's nothing you can do about it. Unless… no, never mind."

"Unless what? Come on, you were about to ask me something, don't try to act as if you don't think I would do it for you."

"I know you would try to help me, but…" As Washington trailed off, Kevin had the feeling he was close to having the other admit his Immortality. When he continued however, that short hope was cruelly dashed. "No, there's nothing you could do, and while I feel grateful for your offer of support I just can't accept it. Now, don't you have work you need to get to?"

And that way Kevin was summarily sent away, without having learned anything about the contents of the phone call, but with the knowledge that it had an even greater impact on his assignment than he'd first believed. What could it possibly be?

….…

Now it was almost a week later and he had finally received his answer. Not completely of course, but at least he now knew who it was all about.

After leaving Washington's house he had kept up his research and had tried to come up with various reasons that would have his assignment so upset. There wasn't much that had helped him, but when Washington had suddenly started making traveling plans he had hoped for his breakthrough. California was the state where the target of his friend's ire could be found.

Five minutes after he'd heard about the plane ticket he was pouring through the Watcher's database in an attempt to discover which Immortal might be the one. It was difficult work; but after discarding all those that couldn't possibly be the reason, mostly a question of age, he had been left with a handful of possibilities. And he'd felt pretty certain that, unless Washington was going headhunting after all, one of these would be the reason for the call.

He had studied each one in detail, and after finding out in more detail where they would be going the list became even shorter. By the time he had followed Washington from the plane he had been certain who it was going to be. Or at least until his assignment suddenly took a completely different direction after leaving Los Angeles, and eventually ended up in some little town he'd never heard of before.

It hadn't made any sense at all, and Kevin had been flabbergasted. There were no Immortals in this place, in fact as far as he knew there was nothing of interest at all. The only thing that could possibly be of any interest to outsiders was the local college, and he wasn't even sure about that. But nonetheless this was where Washington had gone, and the Immortal had known exactly where he was going.

The first visit had been the local high school. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signs and this was all because of a job offer? No, the way Washington had avoided talking about what was going on was proof enough that something more than a new job was at stake here. But despite that, the Immortal kept staring at the empty building for over fifteen minutes, before finally going to look for a motel.

The next day Kevin had once again followed Washington to the high school, but this time while school was still in session. Like before he didn't enter the school, but instead spent time exploring the parking lot. Not that that took a long time, as within minutes he had been standing in front of a convertible with a custom name tag, saying 'QUEEN C'. Probably some rich girl was his reaction, but Washington appeared to see it as the thing he had been looking for because he turned around and walked away from the school.

Next had come a walk through what was probably a rich neighborhood—the only reason he wasn't sure was that most houses in the town looked to be owned by the wealthy—until a house had been spotted. It was a big house and looked nice, but he figured that the only reason the Immortal had stopped in front of it was the note he was holding. A note that most likely contained that very address, at least that's what Kevin thought as he couldn't think of anything else that might make Washington stop there.

After the immortal had found the house they once again walked—well, Washington walked while Kevin stalked him—to the school. Not in a direct line, and it looked more like an attempt to scout enemy territory than a normal walk, but in the end the Immortal had appeared satisfied and had proceeded to do something Kevin had never expected to see. He'd actually hired a gang of sorts for a job.

He hadn't found out what the job was, as Washington had ensconced himself in an alley. And intent on following his Immortal, Kevin had walked around until he could sneak into the other end of the alley and hide behind a dumpster. But now he realized that the job probably had to do with the girl who had just called his friend a slave. Repressing his own feelings of uncertainty—neither of them appeared to have felt the buzz!—he listened carefully to the conversation.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

Washington sneered at the girl before replying. "So I see. But the time for hiding is over. There can be only one."

"Oh come on. Don't be ridiculous, why would you want to challenge me? Have I ever treated you badly?"

"You…" Kevin looked as his assignment simply stood there, so surprised he didn't know what to say. "You kept me as a slave!"

"So?" No matter how strange it seemed, he had a feeling that the girl—no, Immortal—really didn't understand what was so bad about slavery.

"So? So?" Washington shouted, clearly angered by the lack of any guilt.

"Yeah. So? It's not like I was the only one who kept slaves, it was a perfectly legal thing and I never mistreated any of you."

"You kept us locked up, forced us to work for you and you dare to say that you never mistreated us?"

"Yes," the woman answered, not bothered at all by the violent outburst.

Apparently Washington seemed to recognize that too, as he visibly tried to reign in his anger. "Fine, I doubt I'll be able to convince you of anything else, but like I said. There can be only one."

"I don't want to fight you."

"Ah, but I do so want to fight you."

For the first time Kevin noticed a sign of hesitation in the beautiful woman's posture as she tried to get out of fighting. It was obvious that whatever she had done in the past wasn't enough to have turned her into a bloodthirsty fighter. And he had to admit that her next action almost made him laugh, as she waved her hand and told Washington. "You don't want to fight me."

Clearly her opponent had recognized the action as well as he once again stood there gaping in surprise. "You? You tried to do a Jedi mind-trick on me? In what kind of delusional world do you live?"

"See? That's why you don't want to fight me. In case you happen to win you would wind up with my mind in your head. That's far too dangerous, so you'd better reconsider your challenge."

"No. We will fight."

The woman heaved a heavy sigh before finally admitting defeat. "Fine, you win. How about tonight, eight o'clock, at the docks?"

"No, here and now."

"I don't think so. Tonight would be a far better option."

But Washington shook his head and Kevin already had an idea of what he was about to say. "No, tonight would give you far too much time to run away. We will fight now."

"You doubt my word? I'm a Lady of standing, how dare you question my word!" This time it was the woman who was agitated, desperately so in fact.

"I dare because I know you. There is no doubt in my mind that you'd run away like the coward you are."

"Coward! I can't believe this! Is that the gratitude I get for letting you live?"

"Letting me live? You were too afraid to face me even when I didn't know what either of us was." Washington immediately understood he'd let himself be distracted however and brought the conversation back to where he wanted it. "But I'll give you two choices. Either fight me now, or I'll shoot you and take your head without a fight."

"And you question my honor?" The woman—what was her name again? Oh yeah, Cecilia—immediately jumped on the perceived slight. It was obvious to Kevin that she rather fought her battles with her tongue than her sword. "Besides, I'm wounded. You wouldn't want to fight an injured woman, would you?"

"Hah, you might be able to somehow hide your quickening, but I don't doubt that you still heal as fast as any other Immortal."

"I'm unarmed." Well, she sure didn't seem to want to fight now, did she? But once again Washington didn't seem to care and just assumed it was a lie.

"I repeat. You can walk into this alley out of your own volition, or I'll shoot you and drag you in here myself."

"Someone would hear the shot."

"There was this invention called a silencer, perhaps you missed it?" Washington said while raising his eyebrows in a mocking gesture, while Kevin was desperately trying to figure out where and when Washington had retrieved a gun. Or was it a mere bluff? Not that it mattered, as the words had their intended effect.

"Fine," Cecilia bit out, knowing that she wasn't about to get out of this fight. "Let's do this then."

Having said those words the young-looking woman entered the alley, visibly gearing herself up for the coming fight. Washington had already thrown his coat aside and was now holding his bastard sword in a two-handed grip. And while the two of them went through their own rituals of preparation Kevin felt his pulse reach a new top speed.

He was actually going to see a fight to the death. He was going to be witness to a quickening. He was going to see a murder take place, and would then help in covering it up from the police. Quietly shifting around behind the dumpster that hid him from the two combatants he wondered where the woman's Watcher was. At least, that was on his mind until he and his assignment both were surprised by Cecilia's action.

"What?"

"You're going to fight with a switchblade?"

"Duh, I took it from one of those fools who desecrated my car. What part of unarmed didn't you understand?"

"I didn't expect that for once you'd actually be telling the truth, but no matter. You should have known better than to walk around without a sword."

The other huffed at that. "Right, they might be blind in this town, but I think that if I started carrying a sword to school it would get noticed anyway." Any other comments that she might have wanted to make had to wait however as Washington attacked.

Watching the woman duck under the first swing before backing up made Kevin feel sorry for her. He didn't doubt that she hadn't been an angel in the past, but it was obvious to him that she'd thrown over a new leaf and had turned her back on the Game. Now she was dragged back into it however, and not in the most gentle of ways either. Washington was toying with her, knowing he was in no danger allowed him to take chances in order to hurt her, something he was obviously succeeding in.

From the bloody patch on her shirt it seemed obvious that she hadn't lied about being wounded either, but compared to the wounds she was receiving now that had been only the beginning. Kevin winced as the game of cat and mouse continued with yet another shallow cut on the woman's arm, causing her to stumble into the wall.

"How about we call this one a draw?" she rasped in a voice filled with agony while supporting herself with one hand against the wall.

"Not a chance," was the reply causing her to nod in resignation. By now she was starting to show the desperation she had probably been feeling ever since Washington had called her by name.

"You've," she coughed up a bit of blood before starting over. "You've got your payback. Why don't you let me live in the knowledge that I've been beaten by someone I once called slave. Don't you think that's bad enough?"

"I want you dead. I don't care about hurting you."

"Could've fooled me."

Washington ignored that last mutter and stepped forward to continue his onslaught, but this time the woman didn't simply duck under the sword. Instead she took a forward dive, planted the switchblade in Washington's thigh, and rolling into a crouch she suddenly held a second knife in her hands. No, Kevin's knowledge of bladed weapons corrected him, that was a dagger, not a mere knife. No matter what it was however, she used it in an attempt to slash her opponent's hamstrings.

An attempt that failed miserably as Washington had already started turning around and swinging his sword wildly he connected the flat of his blade with her extended arm, jarring it hard enough to make her lose her hold on the dagger. "Lying bitch!"

As she stood up again, Kevin could see that, despite the fear the woman had felt before, she was now back in control of herself. While obviously still bothered by her wounds—that weren't healing like those of her opponent—she calmly stopped cradling her arm and, dusting herself off, she stared defiantly at the man. "Don't act all sanctimonious on me, slave. You're the one who didn't care whether I was wounded or not. In fact if-"

But she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence as Washington grabbed her hair and yanked her closer, burying his sword in her stomach in the same movement. "I don't feel like listening to any more of your lame excuses. I've let you live long enough."

Cecilia only stared at him, and while Kevin couldn't see her face from where he was crouching, he imagined she had a defiant look on it. At least, that's the way he planned on writing it down. He couldn't be certain she actually had an expression like that, or if all that showed on her face was the pain she had to feel as her opponent twisted the sword in her belly.

But if he was to simply stand there and watch someone, who he used to call friend, brutally murder this beautiful woman then the least he could do was make his fellow Watchers believe that she had been defiant until the end. Once he'd done that he'd either quit or at the least ask for a reassignment, there was no way in hell that he'd be able to look into Washington's eyes now and think of him as a nice guy.

As Washington stepped back, and pulled his sword out of the woman's body, Cecilia fell to her knees but raised her head out of defiance. A perfect position for a beheading. Something the male Immortal agreed on as he raised his sword for the final stroke and spoke the words that prevented Kevin from interfering. "There can be only-"

The expected 'one' didn't come however and Kevin turned his averted eyes back to where the man was standing. Only to see him drop down as well. What? The sound of hurrying feet then drew his attention to the other end of the alley, where he saw a young girl come running towards the two fallen Immortals. Had that girl just? But how? Now that he knew what to look for he peered at the body, never once moving from his position so that he'd remain hidden from the girl.

There were a couple of small things sticking out from Washington's body, things that might be the hefts of throwing knives. But how could a little girl do that from such a distance? Scratch that question. How could a little girl do that, period? More important were other questions though; why did she do it? And did she really know what she'd just done?

But from the girl's behavior it soon became obvious that she didn't have any idea about the Immortality of the woman. A hoarse question came from the little girl, who seemed to have realized the other's situation rather quickly. "Cordy?"

Cordy? Was that the name the woman was using here? It probably was short for something. Cecilia, Cordelia? The names had a number of similarities but were further apart than the ones some other Immortals used. But that didn't matter now, Kevin thought while trying to figure out how much the little girl knew.

The tears that streamed down her face at the moment Cecilia—no, Cordelia—died, once more proved that she really didn't know the woman would get up again. The mourning only lasted a minute though, before almost mechanically she stood up again and started cleaning up the scene. The first thing she did was to take the throwing knives, clean them, and put them back in the sleeves of her jacket.

After that she went through the pockets of the Immortal she'd just killed, but not finding anything she stepped away from the corpse to look at the weapons. It also meant he'd been right about the gun being a bluff. The sword received a cursory examination, as did the knife and dagger, but they were all artifacts that the girl was clearly puzzled by. Now that was something Kevin could understand. He doubted Cecilia had ever shown anyone that she owned a dagger like that. Combined with Washington's sword and the switchblade, that made for a strange scene.

He frowned at that thought; why was the dagger more likely than the switchblade? He shrugged the question off, it was just something that fit the woman better, he didn't know what kind of dagger it was but it seemed a lot classier than a switchblade could possibly be. After examining the weapons, never once touching them, the girl turned to the coat, which she was now going through the pockets of.

A movement brought Kevin's attention back to Washington's body. The Immortal had returned to life and was now doing his best to keep that fact from the girl. Something he was succeeding in, as she hadn't stopped rifling through the pockets even though he was reaching for his opponent's dagger.

But when she was done with that she walked back to the corpse of the woman and, with her back to Washington, knelt down beside her before starting wailing again. If this was how she was going to alert the police she couldn't possibly have blood in her veins; anything warmer than ice water would have prevented her from acting that cold.

Despite the way she acted though, she was still only a little girl and behind her there was a man who probably wanted to do her harm. Should he warn her, or not? His oath as a Watcher told him not to, but his conscience as a human being told him to do it. But how had she been able to kill Washington in the first place?

Like all Watchers, Kevin had read the stories about child Immortals, ancient beings trapped in the body of a young boy or girl. Most often they were the cruelest of all the Immortals, and what if this was one of them? Should he really help someone like Kenny? But no, she didn't even know about Immortals, so why was he even thinking about this? He had to warn her.

A sudden scream from the girl proved that his hesitation had been costly. With his heart in his throat he watched as she arched her back from the sudden pain caused by the dagger slashing across her back. It could have been worse though, as it looked like Washington had been aiming for her neck

Kevin wasn't quite sure how the girl had spotted the attempt though, but she had and twisting out of the way had limited the damage. And as she then immediately ignored the pain, dove forward over Cecilia's body, and went into a roll that turned her around to face a surprised Washington, the situation was turned around.

In a smooth movement she reached behind her back and pulled out a small gun from which she fired a single bullet. The sound of the gun discharging rang through the alley, and Kevin could see the Immortal crashing to the ground again. This time with a hole in his head.

Shit. Whatever happened, there was no way he was going to show himself to that little girl. No sirree, not him, unh-unh. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd try to kill him if he did. The problem remained however that he really had to get out of the alley before the cops arrived, and he couldn't do that without being spotted if the girl was still there.

And she didn't exactly seem to be in a hurry to leave. Didn't she realize that someone must have called the cops after that gunshot? The police had to be on their way, yet she didn't seem bothered by that possibility.

In fact after she had moved everything that even looked like a weapon away from Washington, the girl took her time screwing a silencer on her gun and inspecting her wound. Okay, inspecting her wound was a rather big word for what she did, but the fact was that five minutes after she'd fired the shot she was still in the alley.

Ten minutes passed and Kevin broke out in a sweat, he couldn't be caught here. Hell, this entire situation wasn't allowed to happen. And why wasn't Cecilia, Cordelia, whatever, healing? She should have woken up by now, shouldn't she? Different Immortals had different recuperation times, but it really was time that she woke up and explained things to her friend. Then they could leave and let him do the same without getting caught by the police.

Fifteen minutes, and still no sign that the girl was about to move away from her position. She seemed to be waiting for Washington to revive again, something she took far too calmly. Nobody reacted that calmly to seeing the dead walk for the first time, so she had to know about Immortals, didn't she?

In an effort to calm himself, he started biting his nails when after twenty minutes the girl still hadn't made a move. She was still staring at the body of Washington, holding the gun in a relaxed grip, and constantly on guard. No, it was still impossible for him to get away without her noticing it, and while she might let him live he didn't want to bet his life on her kindness.

Another five minutes later he accidentally bit his own lip from frustration, but the pain only reminded him again of the trouble he was in if someone discovered him in this situation. Why wouldn't the damn girl leave? Swallowing the coppery tasting blood in his mouth he couldn't tear his eyes away from the disaster that was going to happen.

After half an hour there still was no sign of the police, and Kevin started to come to the conclusion that, aside from costing him a couple of years, his worrying had been for nothing. It was at that point that Washington came back to life as well. He didn't notice it immediately, because the man had the presence of mind to stay as still as he could, but the girl couldn't be fooled.

"I can see you breathing. Get up." As Washington did as she told him, recognizing that she could just as easily kill him again, she appeared to study him. For a moment her eyes strayed to his forehead where the blood was the only thing that remained of the wound that had killed him. "What are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The sun is still out, so you're not a vampire. And you don't look like any demon I've ever heard of. What are you?" This time it was clearly a command, but Washington showed his stubborn streak and didn't answer. Not even when the first bullet shattered his left knee.

"Fuck off," he finally said, while trying to support his weight on only one knee.

"You shouldn't use that kind of language in front of children." A second shot took care of the other knee and he crashed to the ground still looking defiantly, but with a lot of fear in his eyes as well. "Let's try another question. How do I kill you?"

While obviously struggling to keep himself from screaming, Washington couldn't stop himself from glancing at the girl's neck, giving away his secret.

"Decapitation. Should've realized that myself," the girl said in the emotionless voice she'd been conducting the entire interview, before once again putting a bullet in the Immortal's head.

When she then walked over to the sword, Kevin could see her wince as she accidentally pulled the wound on her back. And that was without swinging a sword in order to decapitate someone. Should he try to get away during the resulting quickening? No, while it might be the only time he could get away without being noticed, he couldn't simply walk away from the moment that his assignment lost his head, and to a mortal that didn't know anything about Immortals at that.

x.x.x

The feeling of lightning bolts striking her body woke Cordelia from her deceased state, and while screaming out in pain she tried to figure out what was happening. Realization hit her at the same time another burst of quickening did. But how? Unfortunately being pounded by the life and strength of another Immortal didn't do your cognitive processes a world of good and she couldn't come up with a reason for her receiving the quickening.

Fuzzy though her mind was, she did realize that the hiding spell was no longer active. The witch she had paid for that particular bit of magic had warned her that receiving a quickening would end it. Something to do with how her quickening would be altered by an event like this. But that still didn't tell her why she wasn't the one being decapitated.

The last thing she remembered was that the former slave had been about to take her head. No, between two strikes she suddenly remembered something. There had been someone else; someone had been holding her while she died. Someone who called her Cordy, but who?

And just as suddenly as it had started the quickening was over and, attempting to regain her breath while resting on all fours, she waited for her strength to return before even trying to stand up. Survival instincts suddenly came forward however and she raised her head to get a good look around, only to be confronted with a ridiculous sight.

"Dawn? Why are you holding a sword?" The girl just stood there in shock, alternately looking from the corpse at her feet to her. Wait a minute, had Dawn taken the slave's head? Since when was she capable of something like that?

"You possessed her." What? What was she talking about? "You're like Eyghon, only with better special effects."

No! She couldn't really think that, could she? But as Dawn walked over to her, Cordelia realized that the girl was actually thinking that. Dawn really believed that she had been possessed, instead of only having received a quickening. It might be a realistic assumption, but that didn't make her feel any better about having someone she liked try to cut of her head.

She had to do something, and quick. Dawn was already standing next to her and holding the sword above her head, in an attempt to bring it down. Once that downswing started the young girl couldn't possibly halt it. "Dawn, it's me!" But it wasn't enough. Whether it was too late, or if Dawn simply ignored the words, didn't matter as the sword came down to cut off her head.

* * *

Post-fic comments: This story is seven chapters in total which will be posted on a weekly basis. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Looking at his watch, the Colonel sighed in barely constrained annoyance. He had been sitting here for several hours now and he really wanted the target to finally arrive. This mission was starting to get to him, and he almost wished he'd turned it down after all. Of course, he knew why he hadn't turned it down, despite his initial suspicions.

When the call had come, his first thought had been that it was a trap. The man that wanted to hire them had been an old client, but this time he had said that it wasn't for him, but a friend. All communication would continue to go through him, as would the payment, but they had to understand that he wasn't the one hiring them. Normally that wasn't something that mattered to him, but when the details became clear he wasn't so certain anymore.

He didn't so much mind the fact that he was ordered to kill a girl, not even a seventeen year old one. But the timing bothered him. He dictated the timing during these missions, or in some cases the circumstances did, but it was never the client who did so. That was not the way it was done. The Colonel had explained this to the client, who had then promised to call back after he had debated it with his so-called friend.

After several years in the mercenary slash hitman business he knew that the client wanted to think before amending his proposition, so he simply told him that was alright but his 'friend' shouldn't take too long. Less then two hours later the amended proposition came in and he'd decided to call for a meeting.

….…

"We've got a new mission?" B.A. was the first to ask.

"Maybe. There is an offer, but I wanted to discuss it before deciding if we should take it."

"Well, don't keep us waiting. Tell us." As always, Murdock blared out things that came far too close to insubordination and sooner or later he would have to deal with the man. He was a good fighter, but a time might come when it would be easier to just find a new man to fill out the group.

"We were contacted by one of our clients, who wanted to hire us for a friend-"

B.A. interrupted in an aside to Murdock. "I just bet it was a friend."

Raising his eyebrows the Colonel indicated to his subordinate that he should shut the hell up, as he was talking. "Yes, a friend. We don't care what the client does or says. We only care about the payment."

"So, what's the problem then?"

"This time they decided to make the contract time-specific."

"You mean we have to finish it within a certain amount of time? What's so strange about that?"

Okay, here it came. "We are meant to go to the town where the target lives, and remain there until the client calls us to say we have to do it. Once he calls we'll have the rest of that day to finish the objective."

"Hold on!"

"Wait a fuckin' minute!"

"No way!"

The reactions from the three other men were so predictable that he could have predicted them beforehand. In fact, he had done so, and the Colonel was now surreptitiously comparing the predictions he had written down with what was actually said. From the nine comments he had put on the paper, seven were among the first ten to be spoken. So, once he was sure that he could still predict the men, he decided to break the argument up.

"ENOUGH!" The bellow caused the team to stand down, and they all looked at him in expectation of what he was about to say.

"Don't you think I had the same ideas? Don't you think I immediately told the man no?"

"If you said no, then why are we still talking here?" Faceman wanted to know.

"Because he amended his offer. But before we'll go through that I want to discuss the contents of the mission itself. So that we're all aware of what exactly will need to be done." Grabbing the pile of printouts he showed them to his man. "This is the target, one Cordelia Chase."

"Hubba hubba, I wouldn't mind having some fun with her before the kill." Faceman said, obviously still trying to live up to the reputation that came with the name he'd chosen. That was one of the few things that the Colonel disliked about having based their names on a television show. At least the other two didn't act either crazy or had suddenly become afraid of flying.

"Never mind what she looks like. The objective is to kill her, not fuck her. And that's all that we'll do to her. We all know how much they can do with a little bit of DNA these days and I don't plan on having anyone trace us, simply because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

"Yes sir," came the sullen answer. But he knew that this order would be followed, the risks were simply too high not to.

"Alright then. This is what we know; she lives in a town called Sunnydale. This is in California, about two hours from Los Angeles. The target lives in the rich part of town and drives her expensive convertible to school every weekday. In the evening she often goes to a local club, called…" he had to look up the name of the club, but after shuffling through the papers a bit he found it, and continued, "the Bronze. There are no bodyguards of any kind around her. The target herself is not, I repeat not, a proficient fighter of any kind and is unlikely to offer any substantial defense."

"Sounds like a piece of cake. A sniper bullet while she's on her way to school, or even a simple stab while she's dancing in that club, and she's taken care off."

If only it were that easy. "Right, unfortunately there comes the first demand of the client. The cause of death must be beheading. No, I'm saying this wrong. Her head needs to be cut off, before or after she dies."

That silenced the three men for a moment and, while they were digesting that information, the Colonel took that time to take a sip from his beer. "We have to cut off her head?"

"Yes."

"Man, that's sick. We don't have to take it back with us or something, do we?"

"No B.A., that is fortunately something we'll be spared. The client only needs to be certain that she was beheaded, a picture will suffice and once he's confirmed it through the local newspaper we'll get paid."

"Hold on, let's get back to that whole timing thing now. Is that condition gone, or what?"

And now they came to the part that mattered. "No, that condition remains. But it is also tied into the price."

"Explain."

Murdock was really starting to push it, one more comment and an 'unfortunate' accident might happen during this mission. Unfortunately, for now the Colonel had to restrict himself to simply glaring at the man before explaining. "Accomplishing the mission itself will bag us seventy-five grand. However, as I said we'll need to be on standby during a rather long period of time; up to three weeks. We'll have to spend that time in this Sunnydale, which means we'll have to be careful about showing our faces too much. In return for being cooped up in some miserable hotel room we'll be netting ten grand a day."

"Ten grand, for doing nothing? That sounds good to me." Faceman said, and as the other two nodded in agreement the Colonel knew that they were very likely to accept the mission, but he had to explain the possible problems anyway.

"Because of the high-risk factor involved, I will demand that ten grand will be transferred to our account at the start of each day. If we don't get paid for a certain day, and don't receive the call that the mission is a go, we'll walk away. Simple as that. Similarly, if we ever feel that the whole thing is a set-up, we'll leave the town, cancel the contract, and scrap the client from our client list."

"If it's a trap, we'll scrap him from more than a stupid list."

The others seemed to more than agree with B.A.'s statement and even came with ideas of how to take care the man. But before the meeting degenerated into a discussion of the best way to deal with a traitor, the Colonel interfered one last time spoke in a more formal tone. "You've all heard the facts of the mission. You know what will need to be done; you know what we'll get in return. Knowing all this, do you want to accept the mission?"

In the end it was unanimously decided that they should agree to do the mission, leaving the Colonel to call the client to let him know that the A-team had accepted his mission.

Wasn't it wonderful that these days you could pick an alias from the television, and actually have it help you get clients?

….…

Coming up with a preliminary plan and gathering the needed supplies hadn't taken them very long, so within twenty-four hours the self-styled A-team had arrived in Sunnydale. Due to the nature of their mission they had decided on renting a cabin at the closest motel. That way they would have at least something approaching privacy, and nobody should notice that they hardly ever left their room.

The day after their arrival the group had split up, and each of them had taken a separate tour of the town. Visiting all the important buildings, or at least those important for their mission, the Colonel didn't exactly believe he needed a dose of culture in the form of a museum.

Those tours did show him exactly how small this town was, it wasn't the smallest town he had ever been in, but it was still damn small. But there was something else that bothered him, the citizens acted as if they were under a constant threat. Unfortunately he had no idea what from, and when he mentioned it to Faceman his partner had no idea either.

….…

"I agree it's strange, almost makes me feel like I've gone back in time and in enemy territory again."

Taking a deep breath of the delicious smell of the fine cup of coffee he was holding, the Colonel took his time answering. "Except of course that this is no fucking jungle."

"Except that of course, well that and that the pay's better too."

He let out a short barking laugh, but privately he had to admit that it wasn't so far from what he'd been thinking either. Not that he would let Faceman hear about that, there was no reason for him to make it easier for any of them to figure out how to predict his behavior. "Did you find out anything?"

The other threw a quick glance around the mostly empty coffee shop where they had met up, but when he too acknowledged that nobody was going to listen in, he started talking. "Actually, yeah I did. Do you think there's some way you could get the beheading thing lifted? Because if that's the case, we could make it look like a suicide."

"A suicide? From a rich kid like that? Explain," The Colonel demanded before taking a sip of the hot, black liquid.

"Okay, it's like this. I've been snooping around a bit, like you ordered us too, and I kinda overheard a conversation between two girls. Not exactly the brightest bulbs around, but from what I understood they were close to the target once." At this Faceman decided it was time for a sip as well, and the Colonel was forced to wait impatiently for him to continue. "Anyways, they were talking about how her reputation was, and I quote, like totally ruined now."

The impression of an airhead was so good that the Colonel couldn't contain his laughter, even though he had just taken another sip. Some of the coffee escaped his mouth in a stream, and the part that he tried to swallow went down the wrong pipe, causing a coughing fit. "Damn it man, don't," more coughing interfered with what he was trying to say, but before long he'd overcome this bout as well, "don't do that while I'm drinking."

"Oops, sorry." The unrepentant grin belied the words however, but Faceman was the only of the three from which he'd accept behavior like this. The two of them had history going back before the other two had joined them to start the A-team. They had served in the same black ops unit, and that kind of thing taught you more about a guy than anything else possibly could.

"Go on with your story. My coffee has been ruined already, so you can skip the acting part."

"Sure thing boss. Like I was saying, these two girls then continued talking of how she had managed to ruin her reputation, and I have to say it was a weird tale." Always the showman, Faceman paused here for effect, but as the Colonel refused to ask for him to continue, he continued out of his own volition. "Alright. It's like this. We've both seen what a hot piece of ass the target is. Now, from my way of thinking someone that looks like that and is rich to boot will always be at the top of the food chain in high school."

"That makes sense," the Colonel grudgingly admitted into the silence that fell. If he were to wait for the other to continue out of his own volition every time he stopped, this tale would take hours.

"Right, now apparently some time in the last year or so, she had taken up with someone who the airheads described as the biggest loser of the school. Now, as if this wasn't bad enough, it seems that a couple of days ago the guy had cheated on her, with some kind of geek."

"And where does the suicide thing come in?"

Faceman looked at him as if he'd just said water was burning, but eventually explained his theory, which in the Colonel's opinion was rather shady. "I was coming to that, look the little girl is depressed, and while she's still in the hospital at the moment."

"Hold on. Hospital?"

"Did I forget to mention that?"

Gnashing his teeth in frustration, the Colonel hissed his words at the other man. "Yes, you forgot to bloody mention she was in the hospital."

"Oops." Seeing the expression on his face, and probably taking a hint from it, Faceman hurried to give an explanation. "That happened when she walked in on the cheating guy. Apparently she was so shocked by the whole thing that she didn't look where she was going and fell down the stairs, where a piece of rebar was waiting for her. Instant shish kebab. Well, Chase kebab actually."

Rolling his eyes at the bad pun, the Colonel asked for more information. "But she survived, despite such a grave wound?"

"Yeah, but things like that happen, I mean last week I read an article about a little kid that fell down nine stories and didn't even have a scratch."

The Colonel didn't intend to dismiss that so easily though, in his opinion people who survived that kind of trauma usually got out stronger, not weaker. Besides, he rather doubted the client would go for something besides a beheading anyway. While he hadn't told the others yet, it was that part of the mission that bothered him most. There was of course the chance that it was all a trap, but in his opinion that was a rather remote possibility. The whole beheading thing however meant that there was more going on than met the eye, and this whole hospital thing only complicated matters even more.

"But she's still in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but she'll be released tomorrow."

….…

Knowing the target would be released the next day had been a good thing, as he really wanted to see for himself how she behaved. For a beautiful teenage girl there was only one place that could possibly be considered a natural environment and he wanted to see how she acted there. See how the wound influenced her, and get a general feeling about her behavior. Which meant he had to wade into the throngs of teenybopping, headache inducing children going out for the evening.

If he had been certain that he'd get the information he needed, the Colonel would have told one of the others to go. But as he wasn't sure they'd manage that, he was the one forced to do this dirty job. If it hadn't been for the mask he was wearing, he would have rubbed his ears to ease their suffering. Suffering that had been caused by exposure to that stuff kids dared to call music.

….…

The loud music first became audible to him right outside the doors to the club, and he had to admit that it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd imagined it would be. Not that it took away his worries, there was always the chance that this was only a quiet song. The Colonel had known what he should expect though, and if the sound became too much… well that was why he'd brought those earplugs, wasn't it?

Stepping through the door was the experience of a lifetime. The atmosphere wasn't as bad as he'd expected, apparently this was a club for the younger crowd so there wasn't much alcohol being used. Which meant that it didn't so much smell like spilled beers, but that instead he was faced with a far less interesting odor. If Kurt Cobain was to be believed this was the so-called teen spirit, to him however it was more like stale sweat.

Weaving his way through the masses he made his way towards the bar, a trip that didn't go as smoothly as he would have liked. Somehow these kids managed to avoid each other, but they didn't manage to do the same for him. Pest after pest bumped into him, and he had to refrain himself from taking hold of one and throwing him across the floor. Doing so would ruin his goal for the evening however, so he tried to constrain himself.

Thank God he'd left his gun at the motel, if he hadn't done that the temptation to simply blow some of these kids away might have proved to be too much.

Patience. He took a deep breath in order to calm himself. Right now he should simply go to the bar, order a nice refreshing beer, drink it and see what he could find out about their target. Once the mission was a go he could work out his anger in the best way possible. Violently. No, don't think about the violence. Patience is the name of the game right now.

Doing his best to restrain his simmering anger, the Colonel had finally reached the bar and pulled on the shirt of the bartender. "Gimme a beer."

"Show me some ID first," was the reply given by the young man who was only paying attention to a couple of gyrating, young, female bodies on the dance floor.

The Colonel however, had had enough. Grabbing the bartender by his collar he dragged the foolish boy towards him and when the scared, wild-looking eyes were only inches from his own he hissed. "Do I fuckin' look like I'm underage? Give me that beer. Now!" And with those words he released the bartender, who while taking a couple of steps back to regain his balance almost managed to cause the bottles behind him to crash to the floor.

"Y-yes sir."

"Good boy." See? The only way to get some decent service these days was to demand it.

When he finally had the beer in his hand, a beer that he had to admit had been exceedingly well-tapped, he turned around to take his own look at the floor. Surveying the dance floor he couldn't spot the target yet but he had a feeling she'd show up sooner or later. If her reputation had been ruined as much as Faceman believed, she needed to restore it as quickly as she could. And the best place to do that was here.

Noticing a free table in a corner he made his way there, the only reason it was still free was probably because of the lack of light. It wasn't completely dark, but it wasn't as well lit as the other tables either, something that suited his purpose just fine. Taking a seat on one chair, he placed his legs on another. Nothing was likely to happen so there was no need for him to remain ready to move at a moment's notice. Besides, he validated the reasoning to himself, this way he wouldn't look so much out of place.

As a preparation for when the target would actually show up, the Colonel decided to do some crowd-watching. The jocks and cheerleaders were easily distinguishable, jackets thrown over their chairs in a way that was obviously meant to be cool, or whatever you called it these days, and the lack of brains just seemed to radiate from them. It was a fairly large group, and he was pretty certain that when she arrived, the target would go to them first.

But until she arrived he could spend his time looking at more interesting people, one small group stood out to him and he focused his attention there. Two girls, one blonde and one redhead, and a dark-haired boy sitting together. Unlike the other children though, these seemed depressed. The boy was alternately staring between his friends and a fourth chair, where he was obviously hoping that someone would join them. The redhead did her own bit of staring, but skipped the chair and kept looking between the boy and a member of the band. The blond on the other only stared straight ahead, probably depressed because her friends were.

If he guessed their ages right, and he was pretty sure he did, that little group could very well be the reason for the target's depression. Good, that could mean a confrontation when she showed up, something to look forward to. The blond suddenly seemed to come back to reality, and asking her friends something, she stood up and walked to the bar.

No. That shouldn't be possible. The way that girl moved through the crowd wasn't something he'd expected to see here. She gracefully weaved her way through the people without paying any real attention to them. Of course, there might be no more to it then the fact that she was used to walking through a crowd like this. But something seemed off about it. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but there was something about the girl that was different.

Then, from one moment to the next, her attitude completely changed and she appeared more like a hunter on the prowl. As she turned around he allowed his eyes to glide past her, trusting that she wouldn't notice he had been staring at her. The Colonel didn't look at the girl again until he was sure that her attention was back where it belonged. Somewhere he wasn't. Strange. The fact that she noticed him looking wasn't all that special, but her reaction to it was.

The feeling of a pair of eyes examining him made him put his musing about the girl on the back burner while he casually looked around to identify the source; he didn't want anyone to remember him clearly enough to ever tell the police about him. Not that it was likely anyone in this crowd would be able to describe him, but then again, he hadn't counted on the weird blond either.

It was a bit disconcerting when he didn't find anyone looking at him though as he was sure that someone had been doing so. The closest thing to someone watching him however, was some kind of brunette girl who had been scanning the crowd near him before turning back to her two friends. And he wasn't paranoid enough to credit a girl that was barely a teenager with that much acting ability.

Suddenly the crowd seemed to lose its sparkle however, and he joined most of the others by staring at the door through which his target was just walking in. Wow, he wasn't sure what it was that made her look so spectacular but if he had been the one to determine her status, she would have been up on top immediately. When she made to move to the group of jocks he'd spied out earlier, the girls at that table turned their backs on her.

The target stopped, and the Colonel saw the mask of strength waver. Lifting his glass to his mouth he tried to take a sip, only to discover he'd already finished it. Oh well, nothing to be done about that. There were bigger fish to fry right now, or at least one bigger fish. A fish called Cordelia. Huh, almost like that movie. But back to business, the target had started moving again and the resolved look on her face showed that she meant business.

The closer she got to the group, the less likely it seemed she would be allowed to interact with them though. They closed in on themselves, in fact it was almost as if they were creating a wall she'd need to pass. But there was no way to pass that wall, and it wasn't long before the target realized that as well. Uncertainty had come back on her face, but it lasted only a moment as she had suddenly spotted the little group. At that moment a brief flash of hatred crossed her face, and the Colonel was pretty sure that if he'd been able to see her eyes, they would have been spitting fire.

By then the blonde had returned from getting her drinks and approached the target. Clearly she was the only one of the three who still dared to do that, which probably meant the boy had been doing the redhead. Personally he would have gone for the blonde, but there was no accounting for taste, was there? Back to the confrontation; the blonde seemed to be pleading, probably trying to convince the target that she should forgive and move on. But if the reply was even half as harsh as it looked from where he was sitting, he wished he had heard it.

As the target suddenly turned around however, the young brunette he'd noticed before called to her, and unlike the blonde, she didn't receive a tongue-lashing. In fact, the target joined her and her two friends for a brief conversation, and, if the amount of nodding and angry glances towards the boy was any indication, these girls were firmly on her side.

But none of that really mattered anymore, he had seen what he had come to see. Rising from his chair, the Colonel walked towards the exit with a far lighter heart than when he had come in. The target might not be as weak as Faceman had hoped, but she wasn't nearly as strong as he'd feared either.

Maybe after time had healed the wounds a bit she would become a force to be reckoned with, but she didn't have that time. Which might have made Faceman's plan workable if it hadn't been for that damned clause. No use complaining about that anymore though, best to focus on how to go about the mission. Well, at least he'd have to make sure that the blonde wasn't around when the mission went about though, she might pose a threat. Unless… He had an idea how he might even deal with a problem like that.

….…

Two days later the team had been sitting in their cabin, each member entertaining himself in his own way. It had only been five days since they had arrived in Sunnydale, but boredom had already set in. So it was with more than a little interest that the other three looked at him, when the Colonel walked over to answer the ringing phone.

"Yes?"

"It is time." The cool meticulous voice on the other end of the line said.

Finally. The money they got for their time in the cabin was good, but if it had gone on much longer he was pretty sure that the team would have lost a member or two. "Do all conditions still apply?" Just checking, he might be lucky.

"Yes. She has classes until about three o'clock, after which she will make her way home. Don't be surprised if this takes a while though."

Whatever. He didn't need to hear more and finished the call as fast as he could, by saying goodbye and closing the connection. Done with that he turned to the team and opened his mouth to speak the liberating words. "We're on."

"Hallelujah. It's about fuckin' time."

Within minutes the team had changed their clothes, gathered everything they needed, and were on their way. Leaving the cabin bereft of anything that could be a clue to their identities. They wouldn't return there, the decision to leave the town the moment the mission was accomplished had been unanimous.

Coming to a stop in front of the target's home they got out of their van, and wearing the overalls that constituted their cover they made their way to the front door. There was no way that any of the neighbors could spy out their actions, so the only one they needed to fool was the person opening the door.

According to the information they'd received there were no servants present today, and the one who should be opening the door would be one Patricia Chase, mother of their target. It was possible the father was still at home as well, but after checking with the client it seemed that both of these were expendable as well. The rich people home alone in the middle of the day, and expendable too?

Oh well, he shrugged, nobody ever said these missions had to make sense. He focused back when Murdock rang the doorbell, and joined in the anxious waiting for someone to answer the door. He hated this part of a mission, it was always small things like this that couldn't be planned in every detail and might prove to be the one thing to ruin the mission. But no, he was pretty sure he'd pegged this situation right. Despite the gloomy atmosphere that was always there, but rarely noticeable, the people in Sunnydale were the trusting sort.

The click from a lock that was opened was clearly audible, and moments later a woman peered through what little opening the security-chain allowed. As if such a tiny little thing was going to stop him. "Who are you?"

"We're here to deal with the pest problem," Murdock answered, drawing a frown from the woman.

"There's no pest problem here, who are you people?" the suddenly suspicious woman demanded while already starting to close the door.

"Oh no you don't," the Colonel said while kicking against the door in order to keep it open. While the wood creaked from the blow, it wasn't enough as the chain didn't give way. Luckily the woman wasn't very strong, and unable to counter the weight he put against the door to keep it at least partly open until Murdock was able to use the cutter at the chain, allowing him a second chance to kick the door open.

Seeing the silly chain being destroyed, the woman hadn't waited and started running to the back before he'd even taken his first step inside. "Anthony! Invaders!"

Invaders? Who the hell talked liked that? But the woman had already entered the living room and, cursing that he hadn't been able to get a clear shot before that happened, he set out after her. If she got the chance to raise an alarm they were screwed.

The chase didn't last long, even with her head start the woman couldn't get away while wearing those high heeled shoes. When he himself stepped into the living room, he saw her on the other side where she was making her way towards the backyard. And letting her out there was a risk he didn't intend to take, so, without any regrets, he aimed his .45 and pulled the trigger.

The silencer worked perfectly and muffled the sound of the shot itself, the loudest part of the whole operation was the sound of the impact of the bullet that caused the woman's brain to get splattered all over the room. Damn, a powerful weapon like that really made a mess at so short a range, didn't it? Hiding a smile he turned back to where he could hear the others playing with this Anthony.

B.A. and Faceman were holding the man up, while Murdock was demanding information about the family's valuables. Okay, not exactly, demanding information sounded so kind compared to the torture he was inflicting. But hey, if the man wanted the hurting to stop he should just speak up.

"Now, why don't you tell us what we want to know?" Murdock kindly asked the man, before punching him in the face. An action that obviously didn't happen for the first time. But the man remained silent, in fact he acted as if he was protecting something that mattered more to him than his life.

The Colonel had never understood something like that, in his opinion there wasn't anything more important than his own life. In fact, that had been one of the reasons he had given up on the army life. They kept trying to convince him that the army as a whole was more important than the tiny part of it that he was. He disagreed with that, and after his discharge he'd set about creating his own group.

And now some other delusional lunatic was keeping him from money that was rightfully his. But it was obvious to him that there was no way that the man would give them the information, so he decided there and then to stop this interrogation. Grabbing the man by the collar, he dragged him to the living room.

Strangely enough, the man didn't even struggle, obviously realizing the futility of such an action. Not that it really mattered, if he had the other members of his team would undoubtedly have jumped in. When he finally reached the corpse of the woman, he looked back at the man. Oh for... "Open your eyes."

A shake of his head, and a couple of stray tears was all the reply he got. So, the man wasn't stupid and had realized what he'd be shown here. Of course, Murdock wasn't the most patient of men and kicked the man in the stomach. "Look at her fool. That's how you'll end up if you don't speak."

The man opened his eyes, an action that was undoubtedly inspired more by the kick than the words. Upon seeing the corpse of his wife he let out a sob, but aside from that and moving his head there was very little reaction. Why? He no longer cared though, and bending over he grabbed the man by the head. If he reacted like this to the death of his wife, the Colonel expected there was little that would get more of a reaction.

Nonetheless, while forcing the man to face his wife—although he probably had his eyes closed again—the Colonel put his gun to the back of the man's head. "Where's the money?"

No answer came, and with a sigh of regret he pulled the trigger and as the man's brains splattered over the corpse of his wife he let the body drop to the floor.

"Damnit Colonel, whatd'ya do that for?" B.A. complained, while looking at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief showing in his eyes.

"We can look ourselves. We've got a couple of hours left before the target is due to arrive. We'll look until about a quarter to three, when we'll take up our positions. B.A., Faceman, you two go and get cleaned up first; Murdock, drive the van into the garage. Meanwhile I'll try to clean this place up a bit. I doubt even the target would fall for our trap if this place smells like a slaughterhouse." And with those words they each set about their duties.

….…

The cleaning hadn't been a lot of fun, but searching through the house they had managed to dig up some amazing stuff. Really, it made you wonder what kind of weird hobbies these rich people had. Aside from being late for appointments that is. Thinking that he finally heard the sounds that indicated the arrival of the target and couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

Excellent, now all they had to do was wait for a couple of minutes and the fee would be theirs. The Colonel was almost starting to relax when the sudden sound of glass breaking indicated that plan A had failed. A curse slipped from his mouth, before he caught himself and signaled the others that they needed to take direct action.

x.x.x

Breathing heavily, while leaning on all fours, made it difficult for Cordelia to watch the sword as it made its long journey downward. How could this have happened? How was it possible for her to be killed by probably the only person in town she hadn't considered a danger? She pressed her eyelids closed in a desperate effort not to watch her own demise as it approached.

It wouldn't be long now before she could feel the hard impact of the sharp blade on the skin of her neck. The events as they would transpire flashed through her mind's eye. The cool metal first parting the skin, sending a brief but sharp sign to her brain that something was hurting. That wouldn't last very long however as those pain receptors would be among the next things to go, which only meant that even more of them would start sending their messages.

The whole experience would only last moments, terrible moments during which the pain receptors would continue to report on the amount of agony she was suffering. Indications from her body that what she was doing was something that should have been avoided at all cost. But as the sword would continue on its way, and slice between the vertebrae it would be too late to do anything about it. Once her spine had been severed there wouldn't be anything she'd be able to do to save that most precious of all commodities. Her life.

Another piece of that frozen moment in time was wasted by Cordelia as she reflected on the way her perfect look would be ruined completely by the way the sword would finish its descent. In movies there was often only a small thin red line, but she had seen the sword that was about to take her life. It would leave a big gaping hole, ensuring that she wouldn't even look good in her casket.

Casket? Had she given up already? There were still moments left before the terrible deed would actually be committed. She could do something in that time, couldn't she? Of course she could. For whatever reason she seemed to be able to think faster and clearer than ever before, probably a side effect of knowing the end was so close. What could she do however? She had already tried to use words to stop Dawn from doing this, and by now those wouldn't be enough anyway.

There was no way that the young Summers girl could possibly stop the sword from ending over three hundred years of near-perfection. And if Dawn couldn't do that left only one person with the slightest chance of stopping this situation from ending with some badly dressed police officer drawing a white line around her body. And a smaller one around her head.

Moving her hands from their supporting position as well, Cordelia allowed herself to drop to the ground. But gravity wasn't fast enough, and she knew it. In mid-fall she tried to turn on her own axis while sticking out her arms in the direction she believed the sword to be. It might not have been the best way to deal with it, but it was the only thing she could come up with that had even the slightest chance of working.

As she hit the ground with her right shoulder her left arm intercepted the sword that would have cut through her neck. Instead of encountering the weak space between the vertebrae however it now sliced through her arm. And the only reason that it didn't cut off her arm, but got stuck there, was the angle she'd held her arm. Which was definitely a case of having more luck than wisdom.

She screamed in pain.

The dual pain of the jarring crash to the ground and having her arm laid open like that was just too much to bear. But as Dawn was already tearing the sword out of her arm, which only took so long because of how deeply it was lodged in the bone, Cordelia realized she didn't have time for pain. She needed to move, and move quickly.

For a moment their eyes locked. And Cordelia realized that whatever fear she'd felt before had been nothing compared to what she was feeling now. If she hadn't had confirmation about the identity of her attacker earlier, she might have mistaken her for someone else. For who, she didn't know, but not sweet little Dawnie.

The girl's eyes were empty, she wouldn't have believed that any pair of eyes could look that devoid of emotions but there it was. It lasted once again for what seemed an eternity, but the moment the lock broke Cordelia attempted to free her arm from the hold the sword had on it.

To an outside observer the scene might have looked almost comical, but the short tug-of-war, that was the result of Dawn's attempt to dislodge the sword and Cordelia's frantic yanking, hurt like hell. And when they finally separated, it was the young girl who reacted most efficiently. Instead of staggering back in a desperate attempt to stabilize the suddenly freed sword she moved with it, turning in a neat circle and turning it into another swing.

With her heart lodged firmly in her throat Cordelia saw this happening and knew exactly what the result would be. The brief respite that her earlier actions had given her hadn't been enough, this cold-blooded killer masquerading as a little girl would end her life. NO! She would survive! Other people died, people of her stature always found a way to survive.

Once more she felt cold sweat break out all over her body, but unlike seconds—minutes? hours?—earlier she didn't just sit there watching it happen. No, there was no more sitting idly by while someone tried to end her life, this time she acted quickly.

Sitting on the ground wasn't the best pose to handle something like this however, so she rolled over until she was once again in a position from which she could easily rise to her feet. The sudden movement also had the benefit of throwing off Dawn's aim. Not that the little girl missed—whoever had taught her how to use a sword had done an excellent job—but instead of causing a mortal wound, the stroke merely sliced her back. Cordelia couldn't contain the sob of pain that caused, but by now she had a feeling that she was getting used to the pain and instead of having it cripple her, she did her best to ignore the searing feeling and got to her feet.

The move was obviously unexpected as her assailant didn't immediately follow up with yet another swing, and the Immortal calling herself Cordelia Chase made use of the slight opening in the only way that made sense to her. She ran.

One step away from her doom, two steps, another step, and yet another. Every bruise, abrasion, and cut on her body did its best to slow her down, telling her that she couldn't treat her body like she was doing. There would be a price to pay for this behavior, but she didn't care. In fact, there was little she could care less about. If she remained in this alley she would be killed, so when the first impact came she was still solely focused on the exit of the alley.

But while her complete and utter focus on the way out suppressed the already existing pain to a more bearable level, there was no way she could miss the bullet as it crashed into her shoulder. She wasn't at first sure what it was, but as its impact spun her around, and showed her Dawn aiming a gun at her head, it was obvious to her even before the second bullet created a hole between her eyes.

x.x.x

What kind of sick and twisted creature was this? Kevin thought while staring at the corpse lying less than two meters away from him. She had just hunted down what appeared to be a friend of hers. And had done so without anything that might charitably be called regret. Nope, the little girl—no, monster—hadn't even blinked once while she was using the sword to try and kill the Immortal.

The only good thing in his opinion was that she hadn't seemed to be enjoying herself either. There just hadn't been any emotion present, and if it hadn't been for her initial reaction to the quickening he probably would have doubted she was capable of feeling emotions.

But the events during the quickening had proved beyond a doubt that she could feel emotions. And she wasn't the only one on whom that had a great effect. In fact, even from where he was hiding he had been able to smell the ozone generated by the lightning bolts. But compared to the rest, the smell was an insignificant little something. During his training he had heard descriptions of what happened when an Immortal lost their head, but not even watching some of the tapes of such an event had prepared him for witnessing it himself.

Everything Washington had been, everything he had done, seen, and experienced. In fact, everything that made him who he was had been turned into a pulsing mass of electricity. The alley had seemed on fire, and while there was considerable danger in doing so, he had stood up. He just had to see what was happening. And he saw, oh boy, did he see. Lightning everywhere, Washington's body had been surrounded by it. Heck, he'd even seen it crawling up the walls, only to suddenly jump to the nearest metal object, be it a lamppost, fire escape, or even the sword that the girl had been holding at the time. Until finally the bolts started crashing into the lifeless body of the young looking Immortal woman.

When the quickening had hit the girl's sword however, she immediately dropped it and jumped away from the lightning. As she had been standing with her back towards him he hadn't been able to see her face, but he could easily imagine what it would have looked like. For the little girl it was probably the first experience she had with the supernatural and that might be the reason for her behavior concerning her friend. After all, you didn't expect a dead person to suddenly wake up, did you?

But at that sudden jump backwards Kevin had remembered that while the girl might look innocent, she had been the one to cut off his friend's head. Within moments he was back behind the foul-smelling dumpster that he'd been using as his cover. But even calculating in the fact that the girl hadn't known anything about Immortals her reaction to the other's awakening had been extreme.

But now that situation was over, at least for the moment. The alley was silent again and he was trying to sit as still as he could, taking care not to let even the slightest sound betray his position. Doing so however turned his attention away from the girl for the first time since Washington's last awakening and made him remember the other reason he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

The police had to be on their way, and he was still stuck here. Casting a longing glance at the exit corner that was less than a dozen meters behind him, he once again considered taking the risk. But no, if she was that quick with shooting a friend, who knew what she'd do to him if she knew what he'd seen?

That thought almost made him afraid to move, and so, instead of checking his watch, Kevin tried to calculate the time since the shots had been fired. He remembered that it had been about half an hour before Washington had revived, only to betray the secret of how to kill people like him. That interrogation couldn't have lasted more than a minute or two, five at the most. Actually taking the head hadn't taken all that long either as the girl seemed to be able to handle the sword just fine, and had either been lucky not to hit any bones or knew how to decapitate someone.

Forty minutes at least. The resulting quickening didn't take more than a minute or two, and the attempt to kill her friend had taken, what? Five minutes, ten? Probably less, but so much seemed to happen in so little time that it was almost impossible to tell. If he had to take a guess he might as well go for ten minutes. Which made it a bit over fifty minutes? Almost an hour had passed and the police had yet to arrive. Police? There weren't even some curious citizen around. What kind of town was this that nobody would go and watch when something strange happened?

Sounds of exertion suddenly sounded from the place where the Immortal—what was her name again? Cordelia, Cecilia? Something like that—was lying. When Kevin then heard the sound of something being dragged he understood that the girl was dragging Cordelia further into the alley. The Immortal didn't look all that heavy, but for a little girl it must still have been difficult as she frequently paused until she was finally satisfied.

When it had been silent for a while he finally dared to sneak another look around the dumpster, but he couldn't see anything other than the girl patiently waiting for the Immortal to wake up. At least she didn't take this one's head while she was incapable of defending herself. But neither did she walk away, so that he could leave as well before someone showed up. If anyone ever would.

….…

"Stop." The calmly spoken word after the long silence shook Kevin and he once again carefully peered deeper into the alley.

"D-dawn?" the Immortal asked the girl, clearly confused by what was going on. "Do you believe me now? That it's still me?"

"No." Damn that was cold.

"But you haven't taken my head yet."

Somehow Kevin had a feeling that Cordelia would have phrased that differently if the stone-faced girl hadn't been aiming the silenced gun at her head. That kind of thing was very likely to make you very polite. "No." Of course, if you had the gun you didn't need to be polite. Or answer in complete sentences for that matter.

"Why not?" Man, he didn't know the woman, but even he could see that she was slowly building up steam for a nice anger bout.

"Doubt."

"Doubt?" One of Cordelia's eyebrows rose at this answer, and she peered intently at the girl while her anger once more seemed to fade into the background where he had no doubt it would simmer until it was ready to be used. But that was just his impression of the woman's behavior and he might be wrong—although he doubted that. "You're starting to think that I might actually be telling the truth about being me?"

"Your behavior," the girl nodded. He really ought to stop thinking of her as the girl though, what was it the other one had called her? Rain? No, but it was something with the weather.

"What?"

The girl seemed to be a bit exasperated by her need to explain, but there also seemed to be something else driving her. "You didn't act like him."

"Of course I didn't act like some two-bit slave! Just because we have," a short look at the corpse made her amend that sentence, "had something in common, doesn't mean we're the same person."

"What are you?"

Such a simple question, but such a difficult one to answer, and Kevin wondered how the Immortal would explain her species to the girl. "Ah, don't you think it would be better if we went somewhere else? Even the Sunnydale police will show up eventually so they can blame this on a gang on PCP. Talking of gangs, that bastard must've hired them or something. Oh, are they gonna regret taking that money."

"Don't change the subject. I know you're not a vampire, but the only other demon I've read about that can come back to life is a Mohra demon." She paused when a sudden thought hit her. "Oh, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But I don't think you're either of those, so what are you?" Vampires? Demons? What kind of fantasy books had the girl been reading?

"I'm a Lady of standing, and would have been a peer of the realm. Well," she corrected her error, "it was my intention to be the wife of one, unfortunately I died before I got around to finding a husband with the required title. When I woke up from being dead, I discovered that there was only one way I could die, and that my kind is called Immortals. Is that enough? Can we go away from here now? I'm not exactly comfortable here y'know. Not to mention that my clothes are totally ruined. I need to get home to change. You can come of course."

After biting out those words Cordelia paused for a reply, but Kevin had another thought on his mind. This was perfect, that bit of information should give him something to work with when he'd report the Challenge. There couldn't be that many Immortal noblewomen running around, could there?

"How nice of you to invite me. Let's do it like this though, you put your jacket on so that nobody will notice all the blood, and then we'll walk side by side. My gun will be constantly pointed at you and if you make a wrong move you'll die. Publicly." Ouch, if there was one thing that would screw up an Immortal's life it was a public death, especially if she were to revive there as well.

"Whatever," the exasperated brunette asked, happy that she had gotten her wish and probably not gunning for another fight, "by the way, does your sister know about you playing around with guns?"

Instead of answering, the girl motioned for Cordelia to put on the ruined jacket and lead the way out of the alley. Kevin however decided against immediately following them, he really needed to report this entire mess. However, as he watched the two girls—women?—exit the alley, his eye fell on the corpse of his one-time friend and he decided that before he'd do anything else, he'd have a stiff drink. Trying to get up he felt his muscles ache in protest, apparently his body hadn't approved of the tension. Tension that he still felt and which only started to dissipate once he'd managed put a decent distance between himself and the alley.

x.x.x

Okay, Cordelia tried to talk some courage into herself, so far she had survived everything the day had managed to throw at her. The ridicule at school and the punks that messed with her car—she really needed to get back at them for that—had only been the beginning of course. After that had come the really difficult stuff, first she had been Challenged by that foolish slave and, after she had miraculously survived that, her savior had tried to kill her. Good God, when had Dawn gotten so good at fighting?

Sneaking a peak at the girl who was walking to her right, she once more shuddered at the memory of looking into those eyes. Never had she seen such a lack of compassion in anyone's eyes. Lack of compassion? Shaking her head she amended that, it hadn't merely been a lack of compassion, it had been a total lack of emotion. The girl who was even now pointing a gun at her, hidden though it might be, could hardly be compared to the one she had gotten to know.

On the other hand, the way she fought seemed to imply training. And a lot of it at that, but where had she gotten that training? Or the weapons she so casually wielded? No thirteen-year-old girl should be able to handle weapons that proficiently.

All important questions, but she couldn't afford to pay attention to them now. She understood exactly what she had gotten, a temporary reprieve. And unlike the people to whom she had given something like that, she intended to use it to save her life.

Her blood-soaked clothes felt sticky, and where the blood had dried on her body it was itching. If anyone were to see her now, she was sure that she'd lose whatever reputation she had left. The mud-smeared jacket might hide the even bigger mess beneath, but Cordelia was still uncomfortable about wearing it. And besides, it only managed to hide the upper part of her body, her legs still clearly showed the aftereffects of the scrapes she had received during the fights. And she didn't even want to imagine what her face and hair looked like.

And through it all, the little girl had managed to remain unscathed. And that was the one thing that would normally have pissed her off more than anything else. They had gone through the same things, but she had come out looking like hell, while Dawn still looked clean and fresh. Normally she would have been so incredibly angry with the little girl for everything that had happened, after all she needed to lash out at someone and she'd take the first person available, but the fear kept her anger in check.

She was so scared. It felt like cowardice to even admit it to herself, but there was simply no way around it, and she couldn't wait until she got back home where the presence of security systems would dispel that fear. At least partly; if Dawn got inside with her that still left one thing to be afraid of. And the most dangerous one at that.

Raising her head, Cordelia scanned the neighborhood to ensure she was walking the right path. Good, they were almost there. All that was needed now was to go left at the next turn and she would already be able to see her house. Maybe once they had arrived the silence would be broken as well. And Dawn thought she was the one possessed? Who was she trying to kid? If there was anyone around who didn't act the way she should it was the Slayer's sister.

Was that it? Had some demon possessed Dawn as a way to get at Buffy? If that was the case it was doing a good job. Oh, she had no doubt that Buffy would be physically be able to beat whatever it was that possessed Dawn, the last couple of years had given her a healthy respect for a Slayer's abilities, but would she be able to fight something wearing the body of someone she loved? The whole mess with Angel last year had already shown she had problems with that.

Her thoughts had managed to take her mind off the current situation, but as her feet suddenly led her up the path to her front door, she started to panic again. Oh no! Dawn would demand proof that she was who she said she was, and she had totally forgotten to think something up! What was she to say? Standing in front of the door she only noticed her wildly beating heart, until she suddenly discovered that she was holding the key in her hands, and was about to turn the lock.

Patient. No matter what else she was, Dawn was a very patient little girl. Even after she had been standing with the key in the lock for over five minutes nothing had been said to make her hurry up. But instead of using that time to think something up, anything that would save her life, Cordelia had only stared at the traitorous key in her hand.

How could such a tiny thing have such a great impact? Did that key know what would happen after she had turned it and stepped through the door? Finally overcoming that last vestige of the shock that had haunted her since so narrowly escaping Dawn's death stroke, Cordelia turned the key. If she was going to die, let her die the way she had lived. In control of the situation and without showing any fear.

Taking the first step inside, Cordelia already knew that something was wrong. She wasn't able to identify exactly what it was that gave it away, but somewhere in this house there was something completely wrong. Not again. To show her despair at the situation she let out something between a sniff and a sigh, but even as she kicked off her shoes, so that she could feel the expensive carpet while she walked over it, she tried to calculate her chances of survival.

Due to receiving a Quickening she was no longer protected by the spell. Everything and everybody capable of detecting a Quickening would now know what she was; on the other hand it also meant that she'd regained the ability to heal quickly again. The memory of that useless feeling she had the last couple of times she had been hurt, something that seemed to happen ever more often, wasn't something she ever wanted to go through again.

As always after taking a head, or at least like the other two times, she was already starting to feel tired. Cordelia hadn't expected the drowsiness to strike this fast, at least not while she was still on an adrenaline high, but she had known it was coming so it didn't come as that much of a surprise. At least, it didn't until behind her she suddenly heard a sword drop to the floor.

Spinning around she saw Dawn slowly dropping to the floor with a surprised look at her face. "Dawn? What's wrong?"

"Sl- sleeping gas," the girl managed to say through lips that seemed numb. Sleeping gas? That meant she wasn't naturally feeling tired, but that it was the effect of some invader in her home. The conclusion fit with the observations as well. Not only was she tired, but Dawn as well. And as the girl was both smaller and lacked an Immortal's constitution she had been the first to fall victim to it. But why would someone use sleeping gas? She would just wake up again.

Unless they didn't want her to wake up. That realization worked its way past the effects of the gas and she knew that immediate action was required. They needed to do something, but what? Dawn seemed incapable of helping because while she was fighting for all that she was worth she was still losing the battle against unconsciousness. "What do I do?"

A quizzical look appeared in the girl's eyes, as if the answer was so obvious she shouldn't have needed to ask it. And perhaps it was, but the events of the day had so rattled her that she still couldn't think clearly. After what seemed to be interminably long time, Dawn finally answered the question. "A- air."

Air? What did she mean? Cordelia wanted to ask for more information, but when she opened her mouth to do so Dawn had lost the battle. And she was steadily going that way as well. Air. Think woman! What do you need to dispel gasses? Air. Of course, how stupid. She needed fresh air. All she needed to do was open a window and it would be alright.

But wouldn't opening the door have already done that? Or was that why it had taken this long for the gas to have its effect? Did the how actually matter?

Without taking any more time for thought on the matter, she rose to her full length and walked over to the window. Or so the plan went. Rising caused dizziness, but compared to that first step that was nothing. Like what had happened to Dawn less than a minute earlier, her knees too started to buckle, causing her to lose her own battle with gravity. She needed to open a window, but if she wasn't able to walk to it, how would she do that?

A solution came to her, and turning around to her friend, the Immortal crawled over so that she could reach the gun. Why the girl hadn't done this herself remained a mystery, but not one that she needed solve immediately. And when she tried to lift the gun, the reason became glaringly obvious. Her arms felt like they were encased in lead, and together with the gun it was almost as if she was trying to lift an elephant, single-handedly.

But she persevered, and while lying on her back she finally managed to aim at the closest window and pull the trigger of the unfamiliar weapon. The first shot went wide, but she had used firearms before, and seeing where the first bullet impacted showed her how to compensate. While the shots themselves had been almost silent—apparently these silencer things actually worked—the sound of the crashing window was loud, but for once the sound of something she owned breaking didn't bother her in the least.

But that wasn't enough. Waiting for the fresh air to arrive, she suddenly realized that she needed flowing air for it to have an effect. How? Her eyes fell on the window in the door, and once again she tried to shoot something that belonged to her. This time when the glass broke she could feel the movement of the air and was soon busy gulping in the fresh air. An action that was so desperate it even stopped her from thinking about the fact that she'd been the one who paid for those windows.

"I did it." Cordelia sighed while allowing herself to drop back to the floor. "I saved us Dawn. That makes us even, doesn't it?"

The girl didn't answer her however so she made an attempt to wake her up. Placing her hands on Dawn's shoulders so she could shake her, Cordelia felt something sticky. Lifting her hands and turning them around to look at them she saw traces of blood on them, but with the amount of blood she had lost the implications didn't immediately occur to her. Only when she then took her first real look at Dawn's back did she notice the long gash in her jacket, and the wound beneath it. "Shit Dawn, why didn't you say something? I'll have Patricia take care of you immediately."

That reminded her, where was Patricia? She was supposed to be here today. She didn't have long to wonder about the whereabouts of her wayward servant though; as she was suddenly distracted by the sound of someone destroying a window at the backside of her house, closely followed by another person busting in through her front door.

Her troubles were far from over, but as she swiveled her head to focus on the most immediate threat she vowed that this time she would come out on top. After all, this time the fight would take place in her home, her castle. And in here there was only one rule that mattered: she was the law.

x.x.x

Where was she? Waking up Kirika felt disorientated, and it took her a few moments to get her bearings. How had she gotten here? The earlier events slowly started coming back to her, but she was still groggy from the effects of the sleeping gas. That had been stupid. She never should have allowed her wounds to remain untreated that long, it had lowered her resistance and someone had taken advantage of that beginner's mistake.

In fact, she could clearly remember that she had been caught so unaware that she hadn't known what was happening before it was too late. When she had finally figured it out she had already been lying prone on the carpet, only then noticing the signs of an earlier struggle. She had tried to shoot a window, but her arm had felt so heavy that despite all her willpower she hadn't been able to lift it, let alone aim her gun.

And now she was here, in Dawn's bed, having finally figured out that it was only another of those dreams. Blinking wildly she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, but it wasn't enough so she decided that the only sure way she would be able to wake up was with a shower. Throwing off her blanket, Kirika swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched her back, trying to dispel the lingering grogginess.

Tentatively she then reached for her back where she could feel the outline of her latest scar. Yes, it had been one of THOSE dreams again, and by now she was getting truly sick of them. She had to find a way to deal with them, or risk getting killed during one of them.

Wouldn't that be something? Almost like that horror movie guy, what was his name again? Freddy Krueger or something? He killed people while they were sleeping as well, the only difference being that she could get killed by anyone, anywhere, anytime. One night it was demons that she fought, the next she would be facing a large group of humans, and the day after that she'd be in that world with the Terminators again.

Thinking about movies. This last dream reminded her of something Dawn had seen as well. There was something familiar about the whole decapitation thing. With her mind still focused on the dream itself, Kirika simply couldn't put her finger on what it was that seemed so familiar. It was something with a movie, or maybe a television series...

With a disgusted sigh she gave up for the moment. She'd figure it out sooner or later, and it wasn't that important right now anyway. That dream was over and done with. Not that she intended to give up, but it could wait until later.

On the other hand, for some strange reason that world traveling did some good too. Gingerly she removed the bandages from her other wound and couldn't help but be relieved by the way it seemed to have gotten better again. She had been shot there, less than two weeks ago, but after every single one of those dreams she'd had the injury had lessened, until all that was left now was a very thin layer of extremely sensitive pink skin. The healing process was almost complete; whoever was doing the magic thing to her was helping her hide that wound from her classmates.

If only she didn't end up with so many extra scars after such a dream. Thinking of which… The dream was still fresh in her mind now, so she decided to postpone the shower until she had completed her usual task.

During Christmas she had managed to overhear a conversation between Buffy and Willow about her sister's dreams. Most of it she had already known, but she had completely forgotten about another detail. Buffy wrote her dreams down. When she heard Willow ask about the dream diary she had suddenly remembered its existence. It had been stupid of her to forget, and the only reason she could come up with that was at least vaguely satisfactory was that she had only heard about it once. And that had been during that first day after the spell had hit her.

But even knowing that she didn't consider the reason sufficient. She had received extensive training throughout most of her life, and yet she couldn't even remember something like that? What would Mireille think of that?

No, the pain at that loss was still too great for her to think about it. That had been a different life, and she needed to make a new one here, or more precisely, she needed to retain an old one.

These dreams only reinforced her main problem though. In all of these dreams it had been a strange mesh of the personalities that ruled her body. That too was one of the reasons for the disorientation she had felt earlier, the sudden emptiness left behind by the departure of the others. If a mind could feel cold and lonely, that was how she imagined her mind to be during those first moments after waking up. It was strange how all personalities had their place in the dreams, while in the real world they still bickered, fought, or even hid.

No, the dream. She had to write down the dream before she forgot some important detail about it. Rising to her feet, she tugged at the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing before walking over to her desk. Out of habit she checked if her real diary had been moved, but as she had last checked it right before going to sleep, she knew it was unnecessary to do so. Not doing it might get her out of the habit though, and she didn't want that to happen either.

Once she knew for certain that nothing had happened, Kirika took the book and opened it on her desk. The beautiful Kanji pictograms stared out of the book and she couldn't help but read some snippets of the earlier entries that she had written down. 'This night the dream had been about a world similar to this one, with the exception that we never moved from Los Angeles. Despite not being present in Sunnydale during that night, I was complete. How this came to be is something I don't know.'

Questions, every time she woke up after one of those dreams she remembered the details of what had happened during her dream, but the life she must have led before it was always shrouded in mystery. The part she had just read was just one of many unsolved riddles; and, while it was strange, she was certain there was a good reason for her getting caught in the same spell. If there hadn't been she would have noticed it during the dream itself, but how it could have happened remained a mystery. Without going to Sunnydale she wouldn't have even met Jane, who was the one to introduce her to Noir in the first place.

Had she just thought her? Was she starting to lose the distinction between her, the Kirika personality, and the real Dawn? Considering that possibility she tried to reach the Dawn personality again, but even had she known how to contact something that was only a part of her brain she doubted anything would have come from it. No, Dawn was still hiding from the world and any loss of distinction was more likely to be due to overlapping memories.

While letting out a sigh of desperation, Kirka shook her head in order to dispel those thoughts. She really needed to write that dream down and if she continued thinking about all this she would never get to it. So she started flipping the smooth pages to find the next empty page that she could use. Even then, while she was moving the pages along at a high speed, she was able to read a bit of the contents. A word here, half a sentence there, and three words on the next page.

It was time to face reality. Where in the beginning she had only had these dreams once or twice a week, they were coming more and more often. Pausing at a dream she suddenly frowned while noticing the date tied to it, that couldn't possibly be right. So she went back a couple of pages, only to discover a different dream that had been written down during the same day. Two dreams during one single night. While that was still rare it was a fact that the dates in the book followed each other closely.

And now she was about to write down the first dream of the New Year. Yes, she needed help. She needed it badly, but who could she ask? Who could she trust enough not to tell anyone about it, but was still smart enough to actually help her?

"No." This time she spoke the word, hoping that it would have more effect. She kept getting distracted by things that could wait until later, now it was time for her to write down what she remembered about the strange events that surrounded her latest dream. And indeed, speaking out loud seemed to have done the trick, as she grabbed a pen—she really needed to get something decent to write with—and put it to the blank page she had finally reached.

….…

In the end she had postponed the shower, and as she felt the cold wind blow over her face Kirika didn't mind it one bit. It was so quiet out here now, nobody would get up early on the first of January, giving her the rare opportunity to simply run in the middle of the road. She had started her run more than half an hour ago, and it gave her great hope for this body.

She didn't go quite full out, but she came close. The delicious feeling of her burning lungs had after a while given way to that familiar feeling of freedom. She had a feeling there was a name for it but had never bothered to learn it, to her it was simply that feeling you got when you focused everything on your body. It meant that everything got ignored, the stitches in her side, the fact that she was desperately starting to get out of breath, and even the pain emanating from the half-healed wounds.

Could she do it? Yes, she could. Putting in an extra burst of speed, Kirika had the feeling she was flying over the streets in the light that came shortly before the namesake of the girl whose body this was. It was the first time that she had managed to do this with this body, the first time that she managed to maintain a speed like this for even a couple of minutes. In the two months since Halloween she had been training this body, and now she had the proof that there actually was progress.

Not that she had managed to keep running the entire time, but that would come later. Patience was the name of the game, next year she would repeat this run but by then she would be able to keep running the entire time, and at a higher speed as well. Yes, that would be her goal for this year. Of course, that was just her goal, the other personalities probably had different ones.

What would their goals be? she wondered before indulging herself in a bit of a fantasy. The harder her would probably demand some level of training with weapons, yeah that made sense. Progress would probably be measured in how often she hit the targets on her make-shift range, but despite how silly that sounded it was an important skill that needed to be improved on.

That left only two others, the real Dawn was going to try to learn all the stuff in the high school library. Know thy enemy, and all that stuff. That too was something she agreed on, especially when combined with the exercise both versions of her would insist on. Healthy body, healthy mind. A killer combination.

That thought led her directly to the remaining personality. What would she want? A body count? A minimum number of torture victims? Or was it simply to make as many people suffer one way or the other?

Immersed in anger about these thoughts, Kirika didn't notice the way her body sped up until it was too late and she had overexerted herself. Slowing down she took deep breaths in an attempt to slow her wildly beating heart. Okay, she was still a far way from her desired goal, and if she kept doing stupid things like this it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Running fast was the best way to improve herself, jogging was nice for endurance and to generally keep in shape but to really improve you had to go beyond your current limits. It did require a strategy behind it though.

After some stretching she checked her watch to see how long she'd been out now, and seeing that it was close to the hour mark she'd set herself Kirika decided to call it a day. A simple, slow, run back home would be the end of this and once there she'd finally be able to take that shower.

….…

As she came down the stairs, freshly showered, she was greeted by the sight of her mother preparing breakfast. "Good morning Dawn."

"Morning mom," Kirika replied, confident that she would at least be able to fool her mother. Again with the 'her mother'. Not that she minded the merging, but it kept coming forward at the weirdest moments.

"You were up early, I'd expected you to sleep in like Buffy."

'I would, but well, I kinda woke up after dreaming about killing another complete stranger and almost doing the same to Cordelia,' was what she thought, but not what she said. Instead came an answer that was more suitable to the situation. "I was awake." Hey, she never claimed it was a good answer.

"Teenagers." Somehow she had a feeling she hadn't been meant to hear that mutter, but from a tactical point of view it might be best not to point out that she had heard it. Besides, her mother continued talking anyway. "I heard you come back in, where have you been?"

"I went running."

"Again? Not that I'm against the fact that you're getting in shape, but aren't you overdoing it a bit?"

Not for the level of fitness she was interested in. "It's fine mom. I know what I'm doing."

"Are you sure, because it really seems to me that you're trying to do too much in too short a time. Shouldn't you talk it over with someone?"

"I got the program from an expert."

"Oh," Joyce said—now it was Joyce again?—clearly feeling as if all her arguments were beaten. As they were, although that didn't stop her from asking one last question. "Who?"

"Altena."

"Oh, alright. I've never heard of him, who is he?"

"She. And she isn't very well known outside certain circles."

"How did you get to know her then?"

"I was born at the right time?" This time it was her mother who wasn't supposed to hear the mutter, but did anyway.

"What do you mean, born at the right time?" And clearly, she didn't feel any compunction about asking. Note to self, don't mutter in English, use Japanese instead.

"Doesn't matter. It's a rather long story."

The sudden frown on her mother's face indicated that this wasn't how the real Dawn would have answered that question, but it was the best she could come up with. She just really didn't like to lie to the woman. Luckily though, Joyce seemed to file this as just another teenager thing and, while Dawn started to dig into her breakfast, went on to talk about something else. Well, it wasn't about Altena anymore. "It's just that I'm not happy about you going out alone like that. Especially after what happened to Jane."

Happened to Jane? Mixed with the anxiety about her friend, or Dawn's friend, was happiness. Focusing her attention on the inner workings of her mind she noticed that her suspicion was proved true. This news had been the first thing that had managed to shock the Dawn personality out of her self-imposed exile, and more into the light.

The personality wasn't yet ready to take back control of the body, but after almost ten days there was finally some progress. Meanwhile she did her best to pretend she knew what her mother was talking about, admitting to not knowing would definitely arouse suspicion. "I'm watching out, it won't happen to me."

"That's what she thought, but they attacked her anyway."

Attacked! The word entered Kirika's mind and seemed to bounce of the walls of her skull, increasing in loudness every pass, until finally she could hardly focus on the conversation. She was dimly aware that she was still putting food in her mouth, and continuing the conversation with her mother, but most of her attention was focused on this one single word.

Jane had been attacked, in Sunnydale, probably at night. Which could mean only one thing, vampires, demons, or other filthy magical creatures. The curse was starting again, the black hands of death had already started to reach out to take away those she cared about. Normal people who weren't able to mount a sufficient defense would be the first to go. One by one they would fall until all that was left would be a small group of trained fighters and people capable of doing that filthy thing. But eventually even they would leave and she would once again be alone. Completely alone, in a world not her own.

Mireille! Why couldn't you be here as well? Why had she been the only one affected by the spell? Why hadn't Jane and Sara worn their own costumes? Then there would have been three of them, each ensuring that the others would be able to live. She had to snort at that thought; Mireille and Chloe keeping each other alive. Sure, and on that same day the devil would be buying his ice-skates.

Surprisingly her mother hadn't noticed the snort and had continued her monologue about the dangers of going out alone. But when she suddenly mentioned something, Dawn couldn't resist the question. "What young man?"

"Don't you know?" Simply shaking her head in denial, Dawn waited for her mother to continue. "Oh, I had been hoping you did. Elizabeth never told me his name."

"Huh, weird. I'll go visit Jane this afternoon and ask her. I wanna know too." Because she knew of only one person who could be described as a young man who saved people from vampires. And if it wasn't Xander she wanted to know who it was.

….…

Entering Jane's room felt like stepping into a courtroom, never a place she had wanted to end up in, but the openly suspicious looks she received from the two girls already present told her how important this was.

"Hi guys."

"Cut the crap Dawn. You called and I think all three of us want answers to some questions," Jane bit out. Okay, she was pissed. And she knew something was going on, Dawn had to admit that it might have been better to warn them so that a situation like this could have been prevented from happening. After all, her friend had been extremely lucky. On the other hand… if they wanted to play it like this, play it like this they would.

"Alright." Taking her time to walk to the chair she turned it around so that while straddling it, she would face the two that were sitting on the bed. Let's do this courtroom style. "The facts as I know them. During an unfortunate incident-" a scream of protest suddenly appeared from the Dawn personality, proclaiming that this was more than an unfortunate incident.

"Unfortunate incident what?" Sara asked, making her realize that she had suddenly broken of her sentence.

Continuing her strain of thought, Kirika went on. "During an unfortunate incident you discovered something. Something that you probably had difficulty believing, but something that you couldn't deny either. Correct?"

"Yeah, vampires are real and you knew about them."

Well, there was no denying or talking around such a crude statement. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sara wanted to know, sounding desperate.

"Something had happened that I had to deal with first."

"During Halloween?" So, she had been right about the fact that they suspected something. But how much of what they suspected was true? Her assessment of the night before hadn't factored in that they were aware of the existence of vampires, so this could be anything.

"Yes."

"Something happened to you on that night, didn't it? Something changed you." It was Jane now, driving hard for the answers she so desperately needed. It wasn't even funny to watch, so obvious was her need to know.

"Yes."

"And will you stop answering every other question with yes! I'm getting sick of it! I need to know!"

"Alright." She hadn't meant to give another one sentence answer, she really hadn't, but it just came out.

"Aargh! You're driving me nuts Dawn, you were one of my best friends, but you betrayed me, us, and unless you give me a reason to forgive you, I can't."

So, it had come to this. What was she to do? Right at this very moment she had what was probably the best possibility to save the lives of her friends. All she had to do was walk away and the two of them would never fall victim to the curse. Was loneliness too high a price for the lives of the people she cared about? No, it wasn't. Making her decision Kirika stood up, and started for the door.

* * *

Post-fic comments: Thank you for the feedback. 

Darklight: I think that most of your questions were answered here, and don't worry about the real Dawn. The waiting is almost over.

Allen Pitt: Okay, let's get the pre-Immortal thing out of the way. No. Dawn is not and never will be Immortal. I'm afraid that doing something like that would destroy her character and make her far too powerful. On another subject, you now know at least one series they watch there: repeats of the A-team…

Bob-From-Accounting: The sequel to Things that Matter is still being planned. I know most of the events that will take place, but I'm currently working on something else first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jane couldn't believe her eyes. Dawn was simply getting up, trying to leave them without saying another word. Surprise quickly made way for anger though, and she rose to her feet in indignation. "Oh no you don't."

Her friend ignored her though and, having already reached the door, put her hand on the handle. But Jane simply wouldn't accept her walking out. Nobody ignored her when they were in her room, nobody. Not even her best friends. "If you turn that handle no amount of superpowers will help you. Slayer."

This finally stopped Dawn, who turned around with a look of confusion on her face. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me, Slayer. That's what you are, isn't it? That's what happened during Halloween. Somehow you got called, what was it? A vampire attacked you and suddenly you found you could beat it back?"

"What?"

For a moment Jane looked back at Sara, who was still sitting at the bed, but whose silent support she really needed right now. Her friend nodded in agreement, but remained quiet. They'd decided earlier that if it got this bad, only one of them would do the talking. And as Jane had the biggest mouth, she hadn't hesitated in taking that job. Turning back to the still surprised Dawn, she saw something that made her hesitate.

There was pain in her eyes, pain and something else she didn't know the words for. Some strange mix of longing, regret, and even hope. This girl really didn't know what she was doing, did she? "Dawn, please let us help you," Jane begged her friend while taking a step forward.

"Stay away from me. You do- Ah!" Dawn went to her knees in sudden pain, causing both Jane and Sara to run to her.

"Dawn? What's going on?"

"What's hurting you?"

No answer was forthcoming, and Jane quickly directed Sara to get some water from the bathroom while she tried to help their friend. "Dawnie? Come on girl, don't act like this."

"Not...," her friend managed between breaths. Or at least that's what it sounded like, although Jane had no idea what her friend was trying to say. Not acting? Not faking?

"What?"

"I'm not-" Once again Dawn took her head between her hands and groaned in pain. "Hurts, why hurt so much?"

"Should we call a doctor?" Sara asked as she returned with the glass of water and they set it to Dawn's lips.

"No, no doctor," was Dawn's reply before Jane even had a chance to say something. Well, a doctor probably wouldn't know what to do with a sick Slayer anyway.

"Should we call your Guide?"

For the briefest of moments, her friend's face displayed confusion before once again being overtaken with suffering. "Guide?"

"The one who helps you find the vampires."

"Not a Slayer."

"What do you mean, you're not a Slayer? No never mind, we need to get you better first. Come on girl, hold on. You can do this." She then turned to Sara. "Help me get her on the bed."

Sara nodded her agreement with that plan, and they both took one of Dawn's arms and half-carried, half-dragged her the short distance to the bed where they had to struggle to actually get her on it. Only once they had managed that, and Dawn was twisting around violently on the bed, did the two friends look at each other in confusion.

It was Sara who broke the silence. "What's going on?"

"I don't have a clue," Jane answered while looking at their friend. "But she said that she isn't the Slayer, and that doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe we were wrong?"

"But how? What else could she be? It makes so much sense."

"What do we really know about the situation? Aren't you the one who's always looking into the facts?"

"Right." Jane took a deep breath, meant to not only calm herself, but to make her focus as well. And not only on Dawn's strange whispers. What was the girl saying? It almost sounded Japanese or something. "Fact one: Dawn changed a lot after Halloween, she knows how to fight, she doesn't sleep as much, stuff like that. This points to a rather big change in her behavior, right?"

Sara nodded her agreement with that, while continuing to cast nervous glances at the bed. "Right."

"Fact two: Dawn knows about the Slayer, and vampires."

"How can you be sure?"

"You saw the lack of surprise when we mentioned them. And she knew enough about Slayers to say that she isn't one."

"Alright, that's true. Anyway, that doesn't tell us anything yet, there are a lot of possible reasons for that."

Jane shook her head in denial, while half of her mind was starting to come up with ways they could help Dawn right now. Professional medical help seemed out, but what about a painkiller or two? No, she didn't want to risk putting any strange stuff into Dawn's blood right now. Why hadn't she read more about medications and such? "No, not that many. And then there's the whole thing about her not telling us."

"I know, I know. Remember? We talked about this before. It's the whole secret identity and protecting her friends thing. We probably wouldn't have found out about all this, if you hadn't been attacked."

As Sara mentioned the attack, Jane once again felt goosebumps all over her body, and while she put her arms around herself, she still couldn't stop herself from shivering at the mere memory of that night. It was ridiculous, intellectually she knew that, but she simply couldn't stop herself. Every night, every single night since it had happened, she dreamed about it.

The dreams always started the same too; so eerily close to the way things had really gone. She would be walking home through the park, having just spent a nice evening at Sara's house and feeling happier than she had ever since. And then suddenly two men would appear several meters in front of her, scaring her initially but she'd soon get over that fear.

This was Sunnydale after all, nothing really bad ever happened here. Sure, once in a while the newspaper reported something that had happened, but the people who died were usually members of one gang or another. Whenever someone died in Sunnydale, it had invariably something to do with the gangs on PCP. Kinda predictable in her opinion, but she didn't really care.

It's not like she ever had anything to do with people like that. And that's why she wouldn't react as if she'd just been attacked when the men would start walking towards her. They didn't act stoned or anything—at least if the television showed her the right behavior that went with that term—so they were probably a couple of friends out for a nice night. Well, who could blame them? It was a nice night, and she herself enjoyed the evening air quite a bit.

"Hi," she would politely greet them, while trying to walk around them.

"Hello little girl," one of the men would leer at her, instantly putting her at guard.

And that was the moment the dream turned into a nightmare, when she'd start believing that perhaps these men weren't so innocent after all. That maybe they were after more than she was willing to give. Maybe, just maybe these people wanted to hurt her. She'd speed up, walking faster, but not yet running, and hoping they'd leave her alone. But it never worked. The moment she would pass them, the hand of the one closest to her would shoot out and take her arm in an unbreakable grip.

She knew it was unbreakable because she tested it. Extensively. First politely asking if they'd let her go, than begging, and finally screaming while hammering on the arm with her weak fists.

Never, in any of the dreams or even the reality of the actual experience would any of that work. The only purpose it had ever served was to make them laugh. "Oh yes little girl, scream louder. Make your heart pump, and your fear grow. That way your blood will taste even sweeter."

Unlike when it really happened, the men wouldn't play with her in their human form for long. Instead they'd turn into vampires almost immediately, but that never stopped them from taunting her. Telling her how they would drink her dry, before tearing her into little pieces and repeating those actions first with her own parents, before going over to Sara and her parents. And once they were done with that, they'd go after her other friends and their family.

The biggest difference with reality however was how one thing never happened. In the nightmares she kept begging, wishing, screaming that someone would come to help her. Yet nobody did. In reality she had been saved by Dawn's Xander, and that was what her biggest reason was for believing Dawn to be the Slayer.

The logic was pretty simple, and while she admitted that there were a couple of shortcuts in her reasoning, Jane was sure she was right. It had started with the book she'd read about vampires. One of several actually, but there was only one that mentioned the Slayer. That one girl in the whole world who stood against the darkness. Dawn's Xander knew about vampires and nobody kept secrets from Dawn. Not for long at least. Therefore Dawn knew about vampires.

Slayers were called when they were young. Dawn was young. Dawn had been acting differently since Halloween. Therefore Dawn was the Slayer. It all made perfect sense to her, and Sara had agreed with her logic. Until now that is.

Once again Jane looked down at her friend—could she still call her that?—and wondered what secrets were lying behind those pained eyes. What could she tell them? "Do you think that maybe we should call mom?"

"She told us not to."

"Actually, she told us not to call a doctor. But maybe mom knows something..." Jane trailed off as she realized just how silly she was sounding. Her mother wouldn't be able to help with anything but calling a doctor either, and Dawn didn't want that.

"Why doesn't she want a doctor?"

"What?"

Sara repeated her question, before adding to it. "And why would she lie about the Slayer thing anyway? If she's not a Slayer, she doesn't exactly have anything to hide, does she?"

"Not that I would know, no."

Jane started pacing, considering the questions her friend had put forth, while Sara started to expand on her ideas. "I think that maybe, just maybe, she's not a Slayer after all."

"No, she knows about them. Knows about them and wants to fight them," Jane once again rejected that idea.

"Why do you think she wants to fight the vampires?"

Jane stopped and turned around to face her friend again. "What do you mean?"

Sara shrugged. "Well, we've never actually seen her fight any vampires have we?"

"You've seen how she beat up Mike, and that was just for taking her watch."

"Well, I didn't really see it, only the aftermath like you, but that actually proves my point."

It wasn't often that Jane couldn't follow Sara's logic. After all, it was no secret that she was smarter than her friend. Quite a bit smarter in fact, and usually the only thing that Sara was better at had to do with stuff like clothes. Not that she didn't know anything about that, after all she couldn't let her friend think she was really way better in anything, now could she?

But this time she didn't understand where Sara was going with it. "Sara, you know you're my best friend right?"

"Yeah," was the slightly confused reply. Hah! Take that! She was no longer the only one confused.

"Right. That means you won't mind it when I tell you that that made as much sense as walking around the moon without any protection or air supply? Or that it was as logical as... I don't know, the plot in Mars Attacks?"

"Hey! That's not nice."

Jane reconsidered her comments, and had to admit that Sara had a point. "Okay, maybe the Mars Attacks thing was a bit over the line. But come on. How does attacking someone suddenly turn into Dawn not wanting to fight vampires?"

"I'm not sure," Sara started, ensuring Jane felt better immediately, "but there's something about Dawn that we've missed."

"Really? And what would that be?"

"I think I would've told you if I knew, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah." The two of them were back into more familiar territory again with this slight teasing, and Jane gave Sara a gentle push to underscore that fact.

"Watch it," her friend said while pushing back, causing her to stumble.

Of course, Jane wasn't about to let something like that slide and turned to the bed so she could get a pillow when she noticed the pale face of her friend surrounded by the blue covers.

Oh yeah.

How could they've been fooling around with their friend lying here like that? This was also the first time she noticed that Dawn had stopped trashing, which was probably the reason they'd been able to forget about her. No matter how awful that was.

From the guilty look she caught on Sara's face, it was obvious her friend was having similar thoughts. "Okay, let's be serious again. We've gotta find out what's wrong with her. This can't be good for her."

"Is she still in pain?"

"I don't know. She doesn't look like she is." In fact, if it wasn't for the way Dawn's chest was slowly moving with her breaths she might have thought her friend had died. No! Bad thoughts! Just because she wasn't moving at all didn't mean that had to be the case.

"What's wrong with her?" Sara murmured softly enough that Jane had difficulty hearing her.

"We've got to help her, calm her down or something."

"Jane? I think she's already pretty calm here, you know."

"Well yeah. But that's just her body, maybe her mind is having a lot of trouble."

Sara looked at her, and all Jane could do was shrug. She was no doctor or psychologist or anything, all she could come up with was based on logic. And it was times like this that she really wished she had more to fall back on, preferably some life-experience or something. Well, she considered wryly, this once again proved that you'd better be careful what you wish for.

"What's she saying?" Sara interrupted her thoughts, while leaning over Dawn in an attempt to hear what their friend was saying.

Jane now heard the soft murmuring that came from Dawn's mouth as well, but like Sara she had no idea what the words meant. "It's almost like it's Japanese or something. Since when does Dawn speak that?"

"Uh, I don't know. She never told me that either, I mean she could've watched Noir in the original language if she did. Which would be really cool."

Noir? Something was niggling at the back of her head, but even while concentrating on it, Jane couldn't quite find out what it was. But maybe Dawn wanted to listen to some Japanese music, and that was something she could do. "Hey, how about we play some music or something? If she wants to hear Japanese, I've got the soundtracks."

"Good idea!" Sara exclaimed, before furrowing her brow. "Except there's not much Japanese in them, is there?"

"Sure there is, and besides the rest is really cool and relaxing as well. It'll help her," Jane convinced her friend and walked over to her stereo, and putting the first soundtrack in the CD-player. After all, it was one of her favorite CDs as well, and Dawn wasn't the only one who needed some relaxing.

Walking back to the bed, she tried to think of what she could do next. "Hey, she's holding the watch thingie," Sara interrupted her thoughts.

"What?"

"Look, she's like trying to crush it or something."

Huh, it was true, although that made even less sense than anything else had during this admittedly weird day. The way Dawn was now gripping the fake watch made her wonder why it wasn't broken yet. She hadn't seen it recently, but it made sense to her that a bit of plastic like that couldn't possibly be strong enough to withstand such an onslaught. Onslaught, cool word. No. No thinking about words of the day, focus on helping Dawn.

Jane tried to figure out why her friend would be holding the watch. Maybe it had something to do with the grounding she used it for? Casting a quick glance at Dawn's face before turning back, she tried to-. Wait a minute... turning back to look at her friend's face, Jane noticed she hadn't been mistaken after all, and out of confusion she could only whisper the discovery. "She's crying."

"What?"

Jane repeated her earlier comment, only this time in a louder voice. "Dawn's crying."

"Do you think it's from the watch thing?" Hey, that was a good point, if Dawn was gripping the watch like that, it was probably cutting into her flesh.

"Let's get it out of her hands then," she answered while starting to pry open Dawn's hand, something that wasn't as easy as she'd assumed. "Man, this is hard. Help me will you?"

"Sure," Sara answered while starting her own work on one of Dawn's fingers.

It took them a while, especially when they discovered that if they had one of Dawn's fingers removed, and let it go, she would put it back. But finally, after several minutes of hard work, they managed to remove the watch from her grip. An action that made Dawn trash around again.

Sara was the one who'd taken the watch, and it was her who discovered it. "Jane?"

"Yes?" Jane asked while keeping her eyes on her other friend, who was really messing up her bed.

"This watch, wasn't it supposed to be fake?"

"Of course it's fake. You were there when we got it, remember?"

"I know, that's why I asked because this one ain't."

What? Turning away from Dawn's trashing, Jane wanted to ask Sara what she was talking about, but the familiar tones of the watch stopped her cold. Just like it seemed to sooth Dawn, who stopped trashing the moment she heard it. All Jane could do was whisper. "What the-?"

"Wow. I wasn't sure if it played the music as well, but this is..." Sara trailed off and the two of them looked each other in the eye, both seeing the recognition in each other's eyes.

"You know," Jane started, "maybe you were right about her not being the Slayer."

"Uh-huh," Sara nodded, "why be a Slayer when you can be something way cooler?"

"It would explain why she's so messed up."

"Yeah, it would need something like magic though. Does that exist?"

"The whole vampire and Slayer thing is based on magic. I'm sure there are real practitioners out there as well."

"But something like this..." Sara shook her head, obviously not believing it was anymore possible than she did.

A horrible thought than crossed Jane's mind. "Makes you wonder though, doesn't it?"

"About what? The magic?"

"No. What if the two of us had been able to go out with her after all. Would that mean all three of us would be like that?"

"Or two of us."

Jane didn't need anymore information to realize what exactly her friend was hinting at. During the series the three saplings hadn't exactly been the best of friends, each trying to kill both of the others at least once. And considering she would've worn the Chloe suit, this was the first time Jane was happy about being ill during Halloween. Happy beyond belief that her mother had forbidden to even wear the costume inside. Who knew what might've happened?

A sudden cry from Dawn—or was it Kirika?—drew her attention back to her friend. There were still the questions of what had happened, how this could have happened, and what it all meant, but they had to wait for now. First she had to help her friend, something she realized wouldn't exactly be easy when she noticed a scar suddenly appearing on Dawn's arm.

Something that was so against every rule of nature, that she had only one single thought. And when she voiced it, Jane didn't censor it in any way. "What the fuck?"

x.x.x

It didn't happen very often that Cordelia got really angry, but these past couple of weeks had proved to her that it was possible to live in a state of perpetual anger after all. First the cheating bastard, then the ridiculing by those worthless sheep, followed by the desecration of her car, the gang members, and the wayward slave. And now, suddenly out of nothing some bastards thought they could attack her in her own home.

Well, she'd make sure they'd realize their mistake. Shortly before they died.

Once again she wrapped her hand around the gun that had saved her once already, and mentally prepared herself for the dirty job of killing someone. Cordelia raised the weapon so that she could use it against the man who'd just burst through her front door. He would be the first to die. The first, but not the last.

As soon as the man was no longer covered by the door she pulled the trigger on the silenced gun. Unfortunately her aim hadn't improved much since shooting the windows. It would have been nice if she'd managed to actually hit the man, but it was a rather unlikely occurrence. Still, that didn't prevent her from continuing to fire even after the man had taken cover behind the cabinet.

Until he started returning fire that is. From the first moment the man's bullets came closer than her own had and she quickly let herself roll to the side of the hallway. Why had she stayed out in the open anyway? She might not be very good at tactics, but she wasn't an idiot either.

The moment she was relatively safe, Cordelia sneaked a peek at Dawn, who was still lying in the middle of the hallway. As she caught sight of the wound on the girl's arm, she winced, knowing that wound was her fault. If she hadn't stayed out there in the open, Dawn wouldn't have been fired at.

No, no time for self-recrimination. She needed to consider her current situation, and act on it. It wouldn't be long before the other attacker arrived, and if she was still here by that time...

Alright, she had a plan. Not a very good one, but at least it was centered on getting a weapon she could actually handle decently. Her own sword. She gave Dawn another concerned look. Maybe they should have taken the slave's sword along anyway. Unfortunately Dawn had obviously decided against that: probably because it was too big.

First order of business, she needed to get out of here. Rising to her feet, she fired another couple of shots, hoping that the gun contained at least a couple more bullets, and starting running to the living room. The shots had given her a tiny window of opportunity, but when she was hit in her left shoulder after only taking a couple of steps, it became clear that the window hadn't been quite big enough.

No matter, she could live with the pain. Diving to the ground the moment that first bullet reached her was enough to dodge the ones that came after it. She might not be a fighter, but she knew gymnastics, and wasn't about to fall for the same thing twice in a single day.

Rolling over her right shoulder she didn't miss a beat before getting to her feet again and continued her run while making herself as small as possible. Finally reaching the door, she crashed into it with her good shoulder. That didn't make her feel any better about her wound, but when the door opened she let out a relieved sigh. Had the door been closed, she would have been trouble. Well, more trouble than she already was.

Stumbling into the living room, she quickly moved to the side, where the attacker couldn't reach her, and after risking getting hit by another bullet while closing the door she quickly scanned the room. There was a slight pink tang to one of the walls, and she felt nausea rise within her as she realized what that pink signified. The nausea was quickly replaced with anger though. Whoever had done this to her servants would pay for their crimes. At least it was obvious now that they were indeed after her, and that this wasn't just a coincidental kidnapping attempt.

Staring at the discolored wall was taking too much time though, and she quickly tore her attention away before moving to the painting that hid what she was looking for. Moving it aside didn't hurt much, showing that the gunshot wound was well on its way to being healed. Unfortunately that was the only good thing about it.

Instead of being faced with the door and its ever-present electronic lock, she was staring at an empty hole in the wall.

"Looking for this?" Cordelia heard from behind her, causing her to spin around and look at the man standing there.

Despite the fact that this one too was still wearing a gas mask, she knew it wasn't the same one she'd encountered earlier. But that wasn't the most important thing she noticed about him. Nor was the gun he was pointing at her. Oh no, that honor was reserved for the fact that the unmitigated bastard was defiling her precious sword with his fingers. "Give it back."

"Drop the gun," the man demanded. She had no intention of complying with his demand though; at least not until he fired a billet that she could practically feel as it whizzed past her head. The gun dropped from her hand before she even thought about it. She wouldn't have been able to kill him before he did the same to her, which meant she had to look for a different solution.

"Had we known you had a sword here yourself, we wouldn't have bothered bringing something ourselves," the man mused as he spared a moment to look at her heirloom. Cordelia considered taking action at that moment, but the gun never wavered from where it was pointing at her head.

Which meant she was back to repeating her earlier demand. "Give it back."

"Why? I know it's pretty and it'll probably be worth quite of a bit of money to the right person, but why would you want to have it now? Do you want to fight me with it? Do you believe you're faster than a bullet? He stopped talking to her then, but cocked his head as if he was listening to someone. "Yeah, I've got her here. Situation under control, I was just about to ask her about any valuables... Alright."

"You won't get any information from me, you filthy swine," Cordelia seethed, trying to use anger to overcome her fear. This was bad, they were actually after her head. The situation had been quite bad when she'd still had hope she might live through this situation and the worst that could happen would be a public death, but now...

"Of course we will. Won't we colonel?"

"That's right. After all, everybody breaks sooner or later, and after being in this shithole of a town for far too long, we deserve something extra."

Swiveling around, Cordelia took a look at the man who'd just entered the room from the same hallway she'd just left. This man too, wasn't the one she'd faced earlier. Were there two people who'd attacked her? No, so this man must have arrived later. Which was probably also the reason he had actually taken off his gas mask. Time for bravado. "Give it your best shot. I've faced things you can't even imagine, I'll withstand your silly interrogation."

"Somehow I doubt that. Do you know what's happening right now in the hallway you just left? Quite a big and interesting one by the way, your parents had good taste."

Once again Cordelia focused on the part angering her, while putting aside the grieving for later. She had been the one who'd arranged the design of the house, Patricia and Anthony had only been the front through which she did so. Patricia and Anthony, thinking about those two saddened her, she could still remember them as little children... No! Anger, not sadness.

"No? Well, let me tell you then. You see, we hadn't really counted on you bringing any friends along, but well," the so-called colonel shrugged, "you did. So now we have to use the contingency plan for cases like that. Which should take place in about... now."

Cordelia listened with fear in her heart, but didn't know for sure what was supposed to take place, although she had a good idea. Ten seconds passed, but nothing happened. "What?" Try for the verbal assault, that's what she was better at than anyone else.

Behind his mask—why was the fool still wearing that anyway?—she could see that the other man was starting to wonder the same question, until he suddenly started chuckling. "Silly me, I forgot about the silencer. We wouldn't have been able to hear it through that door."

"No," Cordelia denied. They couldn't have. "She's only a little girl."

"Was a little girl, thank you very much. But don't worry, she isn't the first one. Of course, that does leave one question unanswered."

"Will you join them, or give us what we want?" a third man asked as he stepped into the room.

How many of them were there? Cordelia wondered, as she realized this wasn't the first one she'd encountered either. Not that it really mattered, despite their words it was obvious to her that they'd kill her. The fact that according to the lowlife holding her sword they'd brought something that could be used for taking her head only served to cement that belief. Still, despite the fact that her situation was far from good, pretending confidence was easy. "If you want something, you'll have to work to get it."

"Oh, we will. Trust me, we will," the man in front of her said while turning away from her to share the fun with his colleagues. A moment Cordelia had been waiting for.

She didn't want to be there when they discovered she could heal from her wounds, who knew what kind of things they'd do to her then. Which left two possibilities, she'd either kill them, or they'd kill her. No other options were available.

This was it. Before she even had time to think about it, Cordelia started moving. Knowing she couldn't possibly outrun a bullet, her goal wasn't freedom but the one thing that might help her. The earlier events had already shown her that she wouldn't be able to use the gun at her feet to achieve the required effect. Her sword on the other hand was a weapon she was more than comfortable with.

They reacted faster than she'd anticipated. She had barely taken her first step when a warning shot was fired, ruining the expensive carpet in front of her. But that didn't stop her. Her sword was almost within reach, and once she had that...

Cordelia managed several more steps before a bullet hit her in the leg, causing her to stumble. But once again she had no intention of letting a mere bullet stop her. Ignoring the pain she persevered and before they even realized that to be the case, she threw herself on the man before her.

Unfortunately she realized too late that an action like that would cause him to actually pull the trigger while pointing at more vulnerable places. As the bullets hit her stomach, she opened her mouth in a wordless scream, but even had she wanted it to there was no way she could stop now.

Grappling for her sword, Cordelia hardly noticed as the two of them fell to the ground. The bullets in her stomach hurt, but she would heal from those wounds. Right now she had the upper hand as the men had never expected her to do this. It was only when her opponent rolled them over until he was on top that she realized that her situation hadn't improved, but had actually gotten worse.

She wasn't good at this kind of fighting. Well, she wasn't good at any fighting, but this close stuff was even worse. And with the man's mask covering his face, she couldn't even try to gouge out his eyes. But maybe she could use the mask anyway. Grabbing the man's mask she tried to move it in such a way that it would impede his sight. If that happened she might have a chance to get the sword.

Her attempts to do so were quickly intercepted though, as the man grabbed her hands before moving his head forwards into what she belatedly recognized as a headbutt.

Pain. So far she'd been able to ignore the pain that she was feeling, and the wounds of which were in fact starting to heal, but the man's move spread the pain out too far. Too many places were hurting now and together with the blood she was now also starting to lose the confidence that she'd be able to achieve either of her goals.

No! She would not give up! Despite everything, she would not give up. Never. Realizing she'd closed her eyes from the shock of the impact, she opened them again to stare defiantly at her opponent's face. The opponent who was holding both of her arms in one hand now while preparing the other for a blow.

Struggling wildly to get her arms free, she was almost surprised when her left actually seemed to break free. But she moved as fast as she could, it would only be moments before the hand would be recaptured again. Why hadn't she at least taken her dagger back from Dawn? She could have used that to slice the bastard open.

But that wasn't to be. Fortunately there was another weapon close by that she might be able to use, if only she had the room to take it out of the scabbard. The man made another grab for her arm, but scratching his hand with her nails made him pull back for a moment. She was half-surprised that something like that had worked, surely someone as strong as this could withstand that? And from the cheering that came from the other two, she figured they believed the same thing. Stupid bastards.

Back to business, there was even less time left now. Cordelia once again went for the hilt of the sword, and this time when she felt it she pulled it free. Success! While she didn't have the ability to remove it from the scabbard completely, it did come out enough for her to use it as a weapon. Not very conventional maybe, but the sharp blade could still be used to cut him and that's what she did.

This time when the man tried to grab her arm, he was met with shining metal. Hissing in unexpected pain, the man moved his arm away from the beautiful weapon. He was slightly off balance because of this, and Cordelia didn't hesitate to take advantage. Once again she used her body to fight her opponent, raising her knee to his crotch with the limited strength her injured abdominal muscles provided.

The expression of pain on the low-born's face was visible even behind the mask, and she couldn't suppress the gleeful satisfaction she felt at seeing it. The best part though was that he'd let go of her other arm as well, giving her even more freedom to move.

Moving to a sitting position, or at least as far as she could, she used this freedom to push the man off of her, after which she twisted the scabbard around in her hands until she had the hilt in her right hand. Immediately she drew it out completely, knowing that the other two would start shooting again any second now.

But she didn't care. With a single practiced move she slashed the sword down at the man's throat, laying it open the very moment a bullet entered her brain.

x.x.x

What the hell? The Colonel thought while lowering his gun as the crazy girl fell bonelessly to the ground. That wasn't normal, in fact, the whole mess hadn't been normal. And he would have to have a long talk with their client about it. Sure, the girl wasn't a good fighter, but her ability to continue despite the damage they'd inflicted on her was incredible.

He had been right about her being strong, and Face's refusal to believe that had cost him his life. Murdock had reached their partner by now, and sitting on his knees he tried to keep the parted skin of the man's throat together. "Come on buddy, look alive here."

It was no use, the Colonel had seen that already, but he was far from accepting it gracefully. How could some cheerleader take out a member of his team? And if she'd had to do that, why couldn't she have done so with Murdock? Face was his friend, while he wouldn't have missed the ambitious bastard that was Murdock.

"God damn it!" Murdock suddenly screamed, drawing the Colonel's attention to the fact that the expected had happened. The A-team was down to three members.

A part of him was impressed by how fast that last move had happened, the girl must have known what she was doing, there was no way around it. Nobody would be able to perform a killing move like that unless they were good with a sword. The neck and throat were vulnerable spots, but they weren't exactly easy to hit either, especially if you considered that the girl was sitting while she did so.

Still, no matter how much her final move had impressed him he felt no compassion for the girl, something he understated by walking over to her body and kicking the corpse in the ribs a couple of times. The sound of the breaking bones cheered him up a little, but wasn't enough to make him forget what had happened. Maybe if he kicked her in the head?

Once again the heavy boot impacted on the corpse, this time messing up the pretty face even more than it already was. Face had already done a good job on it, although now that he was closer, the Colonel could see that the damage wasn't as bad as he'd initially thought it to be. What he had thought were wounds, now seemed to be nothing more than bruises covered by blood.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't add a couple of real wounds to it. Several more kicks followed, and soon Murdock joined in as well. Before long however, the Colonel had cooled down enough to realize he was acting pretty stupid right now. While he was a man down, the mission was also practically over. The only thing left to do was the actual beheading, before the three of them would get the hell out of dodge.

The three of them, that reminded him. Where was BA? Putting a couple of rounds in an unconscious little girl shouldn't take this long, which meant he should have joined them a while ago. "BA, report," he spoke in his radio, wondering why the man hadn't spoken up earlier.

No answer came however, and he looked at Murdock, who decided to try for himself. "BA man? What's keeping you?"

The silence that remained was frustrating, and increasingly worrying. Was there someone else in the house? The Colonel knew for a fact that the target hadn't taken BA out, as he himself had stopped the man from following the girl into the living room when he'd arrived downstairs. Instead he'd ordered the man to wait and deal with the little girl, while proceeding to the living room himself.

Therefore something was wrong. The lack of a reply in any form was a rather telling sign of enemy action. Quickly replacing his magazine with a fresh one, he nodded at Murdock who returned the gesture once he'd ensured he had enough bullets as well. The two of them then moved to the door until they flanked it from each side.

Grabbing the door, the colonel pulled it wide open while Murdock went in, professionally scanning the room with his weapon ready. Only when the strangely tremulous clear came, did the Colonel follow him in, and was faced with a sight that made him even more angry than before. Two men down.

BA was lying face down on the ground and his throat was decorated with blood. Kneeling next to him, the colonel examined the wound, trusting Murdock to keep him covered. From the appearance of the wound, BA seemed to have been killed by a knife in his throat. An action that had happened fast enough that he hadn't been able to send them a warning. This closer examination also showed him that the man's gun was missing as well. Which meant that BA's killer had taken the gun. Which led to the obvious question: who had killed him?

No, he corrected himself, the who was pretty obvious with the little girl missing, it was the how that he needed to know. Something that Murdock seemed to agree with. "How the fuck did she do this?"

"I'm not sure. When I passed her, she was out. And I rather doubt anyone is capable of acting that good."

"You told him to kill her, right?"

"Yes. Face had given the all-clear, so there was no more need to hurry where it concerned the target."

Murdock nodded, understanding his meaning. With the target secured, and as good as dead, they didn't need all four of them to hunt her down. "So, that means she woke up, interpreted the situation, and killed him, in what? Thirty seconds? A minute? I doubt he was trying to have some fun with her, no matter what she looked like. How old was this girl? The same age as the other? Because that sounds rather unlikely to me."

"No, she was perhaps fourteen, maybe even younger. I'm not good at guessing the age of kids, but she couldn't have been older than that. Which," he was loath to admit, "makes even less sense than if she'd actually been the same age as the target."

"Well, that at least shows he definitely didn't try to rape her. Fourteen is way too young for him. But no fourteen year old could have done this. Look at it, a clean strike leaving him without any chance of reporting in," Murdock gestured with one hand at the corpse, while the other was carrying the ever-moving gun.

With the Colonel back on his feet, both of them were scanning their surroundings during the entire conversation, never once letting their guard down. "A professional job. Yeah, that could be it. And whoever did it probably moved the girl so we can't use her as bait."

"True, but did he take her before or after BA was done with her?"

Before or after BA was done playing? the Colonel thought, but didn't voice it aloud. There was too much at stake right now for either of them to be distracted. "Don't know. Who could it be? A bodyguard?"

"I never saw any, and if that's the case, why didn't he help the target?"

More damned riddles, he really didn't like this entire situation. "Let's finish the job."

"What? You mean to let this asshole live after what he did to BA?"

"I intend to finish the job first, then we'll find out who did this, and then..." the Colonel trailed off, not yet sure what he'd do. Except that it would be painful.

"Good," Murdock answered. "Now let's go take care of that little bitch. I want to get down to the important stuff."

Important stuff? It was comments like that that showed the Colonel that Murdock wasn't ready to command even himself, let alone anyone else. Alright, when Face had been killed, he hadn't been entirely calm either, but he'd never lost the perspective. Mission first, vengeance later.

And, despite his earlier words, he wasn't too sure about doing the vengeance thing at all. From the moment he'd seen his friend die, it had become obvious to him that there was more to all this than he'd previously thought. Something was very wrong about this place. An eighteen-year-old girl who kept going despite being shot and a little girl who suddenly disappeared, leaving only the corpse of one of his men.

Alright, some of that could be explained away for various reasons, but to encounter that much weirdness during one single mission? Especially a mission that in itself was strange enough? No, there really was something fishy about all of this.

Especially the kid bothered him, he hadn't thought about it when he'd taken that first glance at her, but it had been the girl he'd noticed in that club as well. Where he'd first noticed her when looking around for whoever was paying attention to him. And later when she'd spoken to the target. Was there a bodyguard or someone with a similar function who'd killed BA? Or was the kid a far better actor than he'd given her credit for?

No, once again the Colonel shook his head, no kid could do something like that. No normal kid at least, but what was it that the target had said earlier? Something about having seen things they couldn't imagine?

Who cares? He was going to cut off the target's head, leave this town, empty the bank account, and move to some tropical island where he'd spend the rest of his days among the young and beautiful. The A-team was done, and screw Murdock.

"Right, let's do this." The door to the living room was still open, and he'd kept half an eye on everything inside, but that didn't mean the two of them took any chances. Once again they covered each other before moving inside and heading for the target. Their eyes locked, and a short battle of wills commenced.

Neither really wanted to be the one to swing the sword, there was just something about doing that to a corpse that didn't sit well with them. But with a small nod the Colonel allowed Murdock to be the one to provide the cover. All that anger might be lessened by swinging the sword, but in case the mysterious bodyguard or whoever would show up it was also clear that Murdock would go after him faster. And no matter how that battle ended, it would solve at least one of his problems.

Bending down, he took the sword out of the target's hands and prepared himself for the swing. No, this wouldn't work, she was too low. Putting the sword back down, he dragged the corpse to the couch, against which he positioned her in a sitting position. There, that was better, now he could at least chop the damn thing off without having to kneel on the ground.

Turning around again to pick up the sword, he suddenly frowned. There was something about the corpse that didn't fit. Turning back, the Colonel took a closer look. She wasn't breathing, that much was obvious, and there was more than enough blood to account for all the wounds as well...

The wounds. That's it. Where were the wounds? He could see some of them, but the damage he'd done to her face had disappeared. It was gone, healed. "What the fuck?" he said while slowly backing away from the creature before him.

"What is it?"

"She's fuckin' healing or something."

Murdock was silent for a moment, probably wondering what he was blathering about. "What? Did you just say that she's healing?"

"Her wounds are disappearing man, it's ridiculous."

"Don't play with me here, I'm really not in the mood." The words were the usual bravado, but the Colonel could clearly hear the nervousness in the man's voice.

That was something he could really understand. Wetting his suddenly parched lips, he tried to think of anything that might explain this. There had always been stories in wars about people who'd survived something they shouldn't have. Stories like that came with the job. He'd never met any of those survivors himself and had always figured they were just that, stories.

But if the wounds were healing, did that mean she was like them? Who knew, maybe she'd even be able to get back to life? He doubted it, but he couldn't be certain. If she could heal all those wounds she might be able to return from the dead. And if that was the case it might be better to complete the mission and get out of here before she woke up again. Or was that why the client had demanded a beheading? Had he known that she could do this? Could beheading be the only way to kill her permanently?

"Right. This is freaky," Murdock said while staring at the girl as well. "Do you think she might come back to life or something? Because in that case she might tell us who it was that killed BA."

Of course, he should have realized how the man would react. But the Colonel didn't feel like taking any chances, better to just cut off her head and be done with it. Once again he turned around to get the sword, but this time he didn't stop until he was holding it. "Don't know, don't care. I'm gonna cut of her head and get outta here. There's no way in hell that I'm gonna talk to the living dead, or the dead come back alive, or anything like that."

"Huh, you might be right about that," Murdock acknowledged, before raising his head and gun to aim at the glass doors leading to the garden. "What's tha-"

He was cut off by the sound of falling glass, and probably by the fact that he was getting pumped full of bullets as well. Horrified the Colonel spent a ridiculously long second staring at the last living member of his team. Staring at the way those first bullets impacted on the body armor, before the gun's aim was adjusted and turned Murdock's face into an unrecognizable mess.

It was over within moments, although by the time Murdock crashed to the ground the Colonel had already regained his wits and was hidden behind a couch. Not the most perfect hiding spot, but it would have to do for now. "God damn," he whispered as he looked at the man who'd just been killed.

They had been so focused on the healing target that they'd stopped paying enough attention to their surroundings and that little bitch had taken advantage of it. And he was sure it was the girl, he'd seen her firing the gun, and if he'd been holding a gun instead of that crappy sword, she would have been dead.

At least he was holding one now. The Colonel looked lovingly at the weapon in his hand, and imagined how it would be used to put an end to the four-foot tall menace. This was ridiculous, he was hiding from someone barely out of diapers! And for that matter, how could a girl like that handle a gun that powerful? Shouldn't the recoil of a weapon like that be far too much for someone like her to handle? If it wasn't, he would have to write a letter to the company that manufactured the damned things, because this was simply not acceptable.

Still, he needed to take care of her now. She might be capable of hitting a stationary target with a gun, but there was no way she could have his experience. He'd gotten out of jams worse than this. Diving from behind of the couch, he rolled to his feet with the gun trained where he expected the girl to be and ready to fire.

Nothing. Continuing the roll until he was back behind cover again he narrowed his eyes in confusion, there was nobody in sight. The damned girl had left again.

Okay, what should he do now? First things first, he took a moment to shoot the target in the head again, no sense in having someone else wake up. Now, he had two choices to make. First, should he take the risk of beheading the target? It would mean he'd be unable to respond if the girl showed up again, but would net him quite some money.

The second choice was even more difficult, run or fight. Running away from the girl would make him feel like a coward, but judging from the way she'd already killed the other two, he had a feeling that fighting might make him feel like a corpse. Something he wasn't very fond of. "Screw this," he whispered.

Why was he talking to himself? Was the situation so bad that he really needed that to feel safe? Safe? Who was he kidding? He was outta here; there was enough money in the team's account to retire, even without the money this job would have earned them. Yep, he was getting out of this business, not even bothering to hunt down the client who'd gotten his team killed.

At least, not right now. You never knew how he'd feel in a couple of years when he was looking for a new hobby.

Carefully he scanned everything in sight for a possible place where the girl might be hiding. Not seeing anything, he then moved into the hallway, once again carefully checking everything that might pose even the slightest threat.

Still nothing, she was probably hiding in the backyard or something. Not that he minded. Pulling on the broken front door, he looked outside. Not seeing anything, he then carefully looked to both sides and only when he considered it safe did he holster his gun. There was no point in letting any of the neighbors know he was carrying a gun, and nobody would be stupid enough to attack him in broad daylight.

Of course, when the girl suddenly stepped away from the corner she was hiding behind, in full view of the neighbors, he spent the last moments of his life cursing himself for that assumption.

x.x.x

Awareness returned abruptly to Cordelia, but she didn't move. She had died. Again. But unlike the other TWO times today, she had deliberately caused her own death. This time she'd done so to spare herself the pain of being tortured. But now she was alive again, and her attackers would undoubtedly want to continue where they'd stopped.

Still, she decided while remaining as quiet as possible, life was hope. And as there was also a distinct lack of anything keeping her hands together, she thought that maybe, just maybe, those fools had made a stupid decision.

"They're dead. You can stop pretending."

The words filtered through Cordelia's brain, and while her first feeling was one of happiness that Dawn had actually survived as well, she couldn't prevent the sudden thought that she'd been right about the attackers making a stupid decision. "Dawn?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"How?" Cordelia opened her eyes, and was amazed by how clean the scene before her was. Somehow she'd expected there to be a gigantic mess, complete with massacred attackers.

"How what?"

"They were going to kill you. And you were still unconscious..." she trailed off while rising to her feet and wincing as the crusted blood pulled on her skin.

By now she'd located Dawn, who was sitting on the couch she'd been leaning against, and she turned around to face the girl who answered her at that very moment. "Remaining asleep while you're getting hit by bullets isn't very healthy. You weren't the only one who made that mistake though."

The bullet, could that have really woken her up? But weren't there other wounds as well? "You're hurt. Your back was slashed open, let me take a look at it."

"I'll live."

"Don't be like that, you can't still believe I'm not me, can you? Sheesh, trust me a little will ya? At least let me have a look at your arm then." Not waiting for a response she sat down next to Dawn and took the girl's wounded arm—and ended up with the barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead. "Or maybe not."

Letting go of the arm Cordelia backed away to the other end of the couch. At least the girl hadn't actually pulled the trigger again. She was getting really fed up with dying, and didn't want to do that again today. "Please trust me okay? I don't want to do you any harm, only inspect the wound. Do you have any idea how angry your mother would be if you died in my house? And who do you think she'd blame? It wouldn't be you, even if you're the one who neglected the wound. Oh no."

The gun remained pointed at her head, but Cordelia thought she detected a softening in Dawn's demeanor and decided she should risk getting closer again. Scooting closer, she carefully watched the other's eyes and stopped her movement when they hardened again. Well, at least there was some progress. She still couldn't touch the girl from this distance though. "This isn't going to work you know. I know I'm close to perfect, but that's mostly my looks. My telepathy isn't really up to snuff. So you either have to tell me what you want me to do or tell me that you don't want me to do this. Although you're managing that last part quite fine without talking."

Dawn seemed to think it over, until after a minute she suddenly nodded her approval, causing Cordelia to let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. Finally some real progress, this was going the right way. In fact it wouldn't be long now before the girl would trust her again. She might be a bit young, but ever since Halloween they had spent more time together. There was a lot the two of them had in common, from being unwanted members of the scoobies, to even being in lov- No, liking the same guy.

Moving until she was sitting next to the girl, Cordelia did her best to ignore the gun that was still pointed at her, and concentrated on the wound. "You cleaned it already. Did you put some disinfectant on it as well? And your back, did you do that too?" she asked after she'd lifted the bandage covering the wound. The damage wasn't too bad, although it probably hurt incredibly.

A curt shake of Dawn's head was all the reply she received for that, so she tried again. "If you don't clean it up, it'll get infected and you might die."

"I know."

Argh! This was so frustrating, and Cordelia almost started to despair about the lack of trust the girl had in her. "What can I do that will make you trust me? How come you killed people to save me, but don't believe that I am who I say I am?" And for that matter, where had the girl learned to kill like that? It wasn't the first time that particular question reared its head, but the mystery that was Dawn kept getting bigger and bigger.

"They attacked me," Dawn whispered while seemingly staring blankly into the void. "I don't like that. And you might be who you say you are. I couldn't take the chance of them killing you. They were going to cut off your head."

"I know," Cordelia whispered back, letting go of Dawn's arm and moving her hands across her perfect throat. She had come so close to dying permanently today, it was really starting to be too much for her. Once she could handle, twice was pushing it, but three times? She had actually died three times, and each time certain that it was the last time.

"The bodies are in another room."

"What?"

"The bodies of the attackers, I dragged them further into the house."

"You dragged them? But they were big, how did you manage that?"

A look of scorn was the only answer she received, and made her take the words back. "Alright, so you're stronger than you look. That shouldn't surprise me, should it? Are you part Slayer or something?"

This time a tiny smile crossed the otherwise emotionless face. "No, no Slayer."

"What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing," Dawn answered, still wearing that bemused smile. "It's just that you're not the first one to make that mistake."

"Really? Isn't it nice then that I keep making the same mistakes as other people?" Cordelia bit back. "But if it's not that, how?"

"Training," the girl shrugged. "There isn't much you can't do with the right training."

Well yeah, that was true. She knew that very well actually, there had been things in the past that had required a lot of training. Like the correct way of setting up an identity, or transferring everything she owned from one identity to another. "So, you trained with Buffy? Because I've never seen you do that, and- Hey, wait a minute. None of those losers use a gun, how come you do?"

"Are any of your neighbors actually at home during the day?"

What? Oh, she was trying to dodge the question, was she? Well she'd see about that "Not very often no, why?"

"Because I had to shoot one of the attackers outside your front door."

"You what?" Cordelia demanded while her eyes went wide open in shock. There went her cover.

"The last one, the one who called himself the Colonel, ran for it. He was stupid though."

"I don't care about that, did anyone see you? Do you have any idea what something like that could do to my reputation?"

Dawn only gave a tiny shrug. "Nobody saw me, or if they did they ignored it. And what reputation?"

That was mean! "What reputation? How dare you? Just because that low-born, cheating, double-crossing, dweeb-kissing zeppo told the whole world about what he did, doesn't mean my reputation can't be salvaged."

"You talk differently," Dawn answered with a thoughtful look on her face.

"What?"

"The reaction is that of Cordelia, but your words are different."

Alright, if that's what it would take. "They're not Cordelia's words, they're Callidora's."

"Callidora? Gift of beauty?"

"How do you-? Never mind, I take it you speak Greek then?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Dawn said while the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. An expression that didn't last long, and she soon turned grim again. "Explain."

"Right. Okay, how can I explain this? Right, let's try it like this. I was born in the year 1651, only a couple of years before the Restoration. My family had always been supporters of the Crown, even during the time of the Martyr King." Seeing Dawn's look, she explained. "Charles I, father of Charles II who was king when I was born, and who had been killed by Parliament after which England became a republic until the Restoration.

"Not that we'd done badly while they were in command of the country, but my father always supported Charles' claim. As a result we gained more land and influence after the Restoration. Those first years were good. Even after father died we retained our position, although it was harder to retain as much influence."

She sighed for a moment remembering those times. She had told the truth, they were still in command of the people on their lands and could control a lot of what happened in the bordering regions, but they'd lost their voice with the king.

"In order to restore some of that influence, it was decided that Charles, my brother not the king, and I would travel to see the king. With the war that was going on and the way Charles hadn't yet consolidated all his powers, the country was still in turmoil, and it would be dangerous to travel. Mother said we had to take a full escort, but we were young and I convinced Charles that we would be able to travel faster with fewer men.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever done," Cordelia sighed. "We were barely off our lands before we died."

"How did that happen?" Dawn asked in a soft whisper, obviously having recognized how she felt about that moment.

Cordelia was silent for a moment, immersed in the memories of the fight Charles had put up when those brigands had attacked their coach. According to her memories he had taken down at least a dozen of them, but she realized that was rather unlikely. Still, those memories, fake or not, had cemented her high opinion of him for the rest of her life. Of course, when he had been taken down, she had known her life was forfeit.

"Protecting me. If only I hadn't been so stupid! I didn't want to wait until a decent escort could be formed though: there was someone at the court who I wanted to attract. It would have been my part in restoring the influence our family had, or at least that I had. Charles agreed with mother about the escort though, until I convinced him." She shook her head at the memories of that day.

"Charles had a weakness, he was in love. In fact, he was in love with someone of sufficient standing to marry and the wedding was even being planned at the time. I asked Christabel to help me convince him. After all, it would bring him back sooner. God, even thinking about that hurts." The last part came out in a whisper. How could she have done that to her friend? She had caused the death of her brother, something she didn't think her family could ever forgive her for.

Well, if she was lucky they'd at least shed a couple of tears for her as well, but it was more likely that they believed she'd gotten what she deserved. A feeling she couldn't blame them for. "Mother and Hazel remained at home, while we would travel in a coach. The road was supposed to be clear, Barely a handful of soldiers, my maid, and Charles' personal servant. If I hadn't been so excited I'd have probably felt naked."

A raised eyebrow from Dawn told her that to a modern American, that tiny escort was probably considered something far more impressive than it would have been to someone in her days. Of course, if they had been modern soldiers carrying modern-day weapons it would have been overkill for that age.

"We had been on the road for less than two days when it happened. A group of brigands attacked us. Charles joined the men in fighting them off, but there were simply far too many of them. They managed to kill quite a few with their pistols, but in the end it came down to swords. He used father's sword like it was made for him, killing each brigand that came within reach.

"In the end though the men were overwhelmed and killed. Which left my maid and I unprotected from that pack of raving maniacs. Like most of their kind, they weren't interested in the money I could bring them, or maybe they were but my beauty simply made them forget about it. Seeing me they simply decided to celebrate their victory, and mourn their dead, in another way."

"I'm sorry," Dawn whispered.

"Nothing you could do about it. You weren't born yet at that time, and it was probably the curse of being born as beautiful as me." Not that that knowledge had kept the nightmares at bay for all those years, and even now it was difficult to swallow the lump in her throat away. "Anyway, once they'd had their fun with me, they shoved a knife in my heart and left. Taking everything of value."

"But you didn't stay dead."

"No. Some time later I woke up, confused, naked and covered in blood. There weren't a lot of clothes lying around either, what hadn't been taken was unsalvageable, but one of my maid's dresses had been spared complete destruction. I probably looked horrible in it, and not just because we weren't the same size.

After walking for a while I ended up at a farm. They took me in, probably out of compassion after I told them an edited version of what had happened. Believing it to be better if the peasants didn't know my name, I made one up, Cisiphone."

Dawn interrupted her then. "That sounds like Tisiphone."

"That's what it was based on. I had risen from the death, and the only reason I could imagine at the time was to avenge the murder of both myself and Charles. They of course never made the connection to the Fury with that name.

"I spent about a week with them. First recovering from what had happened, and then they told me to help them. After all, they had helped me so it was obvious to them I should return the favor. Not that I had any idea of how to do anything but some needlework. Still, I tried my hand at whatever task they gave me."

Cordelia then looked at Dawn, she didn't want the girl to get the wrong impression. "I know I was a spoiled brat, but no matter what you want to think of me, I do repay my debts. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long as one of the sons tried some extortion on me. He would do my chores, if I allowed him into my bed at night. Of course, the children were already forced to do whatever I failed at anyway so there wasn't exactly an advantage in it for me."

Heaving a sigh, she continued. "The next day his parents accused me of being a whore who wanted to seduce their son with my wicked ways. Apparently I was so bad that I'd lied about what happened to them because it had undoubtedly come from having sex with the devil or some other such nonsense. Bloody religious freaks."

Seeing Dawn raise her eyebrow in surprise, she explained her words. "Yes I know, I was raised to pray for every single little thing I was planning to do as well. You want to eat? Pray to God for delivering the food to our table. Planning on going somewhere? Pray for a safe travel." Cordelia shook her head in disgust at that. "Trust me, once you've been burned on the stake because of religion your attitude on it changes quite a bit."

"Burned?"

"Yeah, I tried to get away from them, but they were faster. I was then dragged into the nearest town where I received some kind of sham trial and was condemned to burn at the stake. Of course, once I woke up I took my own revenge."

"Took your revenge?"

Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned that, but she hated remembering those times. "They figured I was the spawn of the devil, so why not let them know they were right? Burning people isn't the only thing for which you can use fire, buildings have this tendency to burn brightly as well. Besides, most of them survived."

Dawn didn't say anything, so Cordelia continued. "Anyway, after that I started hunting for those bastards who'd killed me the first time. Fighting wasn't my forte, but when you can't die there isn't much that can stop you. Especially when all you care about is revenge."

Cordelia closed her eyes then, once again seeing the bloody scenes in front of her mind's eye. It had been awful, but she hadn't cared about either the things she did, or about the things that happened to her. She had been an angel of death, bringing the curse of the Furies to her enemies.

"Not revenge. Justice."

"What?" Cordelia asked while opening her eyes.

"You were exacting justice, not vengeance."

"Whatever. I didn't stop until I finally recovered the sword. Their bastard of a leader had taken it. Actually that's when I discovered that it hadn't been such a bad thing that I'd been forced to leave the village, if I'd waited even a day longer the sword would have been sold. Sold! As if you can put a price on something like that." Agitated about the gall and sheer stupidity of that brigand, and the potential buyer she'd killed as well, Cordelia let her eyes rest on the familiar sight of the beautiful sword that she'd kept safe ever since. Surprised that she only noticed now, she realized that it had been cleaned, making her wonder how long she'd actually been out.

"That explains your behavior. Now tell me, Callidora, what are you?"

"Cordelia will do," she answered, not used to having anyone call her by that name. "And I'm an Immortal. As you've seen when you killed the slave, my kind doesn't die unless you separate our head from the rest of our body."

"By the slave you mean the man from earlier?"

"Yes, he was a former slave, he belonged to me when I owned an estate in Georgia. I didn't know he was like me until he died, at which time I threw him off the land and moved to India."

Dawn didn't seem to understand that part. "You moved to India because you encountered someone like you? Why?"

Damn, she hated telling this part to someone who she couldn't control. "There's something called the Game, which basically means that all these fools go running around cutting each other's head off."

"Because of the electricity thing." Not a question, but a statement. Dawn sure was a lot more observant than she led everybody to believe.

"Yes, it's called the Quickening. It basically transfers all of the losing Immortal's memories to the winner. There's some ridiculous story about the last man standing having the power to rule the world."

"But you don't believe it."

"Of course not, the thing's been going on for millennia, there'll never be a winner. And I'll just stay out of it, living my life the way I want it."

"Why did you come here?"

Cordelia shrugged, the answer was pretty obvious to her. "It's the Hellmouth, headhunters generally fear death, and won't come here. I paid a fortune to some witch, who hid my Quickening and messed with the memories of some of the people living here."

"You altered my memories?" The words were so cold that Cordelia felt her throat dry out, and had to swallow several times before she was even capable of answering.

"No, you didn't live here yet. This was about four years ago."

Dawn looked deeply in her eyes, before finally nodding in apparent satisfaction. "Good."

"O-okay," Cordelia said, while wetting her dry lips. "Anyway, the witch took care of the memories. Money did the rest, documents appeared where needed, some of my servants acted as my parents. The works."

Patricia and Anthony. They had enjoyed their work, and now they had died because of it. "But now someone is hunting you."

"Yes, somebody wants me dead. And you saved me. Am I going to hear your story now?"

A slight smile graced Dawn's face then. "I believe you're telling the truth. I'll be brief though. I lied during Halloween. I did get my costume at Ethan's and I dressed as Kirika, a character from the anime series Noir. She's an assassin, the best there is. And now, I'm her."

Okay. So if she understood that very short summary correctly, the little girl who always seemed to stay out of the action was the one person who was best suited for dealing with all the violence. "How did you keep that from us?"

"How did you?" Dawn countered. "People expect a certain behavior, show them what they expect and they won't look too closely at you."

"Touché," Cordelia admitted. "Now, do you trust me enough to take care of your back?"

"I think I can handle that."

"Excellent, there's a shower upstairs we can share. After that we'll call your mom, ask her if you can stay over tonight."

"I already did."

"What?"

Dawn shrugged. "You might be a danger, and I needed to be here to handle it."

"Kill me you mean."

"If necessary."

"What kind of excuse did you give her then?"

"I didn't need to. Buffy sent me after you, I explained you were upset and as one of the few people who cared about you it'd be best if I stayed over. Your parents aren't home by the way."

Cordelia shook her head in amazement, so Buffy had really been trying to be nice. Maybe if she'd listened to the Slayer, all this could have been avoided. Right. Sure. And right after she could go buy the Brooklyn Bridge from that nice man who asked only a hundred dollars for it. "Alright, if you're sure that's not a problem, how about that shower then?"

"You want to share the shower?" Dawn asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, why? What's the problem?"

"Are you sure this isn't an attempt by someone older than dirt to seduce a young good looking girl?"

What? Cordelia's first reaction was one of bewilderment, but it wasn't long before she understood the joke. "Oh, ha ha. Just because some beings of advanced age like to seduce young girls called Summers doesn't mean I'm one of them. For one, despite being older than dirt, I don't go for girls. I'm quite happy focusing on one half of the human population."

"That's what I thought," Dawn answered, an answer so obscure that Cordelia had no idea whether the girl was relieved or disappointed. Not that it really mattered. "Anyway, once we've cleaned up we have to come up with a plan. There're the bodies to deal with, as well as the next attack."

The bodies. She hated to think about them. One of the things she would need to do fairly soon was to inform Patricia and Anthony's families of what had happened. But that would have to wait until after this situation was dealt with. She didn't want to have to repay any of her other servants' families for the loyalty they had had to her for these past centuries.

No, she thought while following Dawn upstairs while hoping she'd soon get rid of the chafing crusted blood that was bothering her with every step she took. She wouldn't do that, but there might be something else she could do.

"We should call my teacher. She'll know what to do."

"Your teacher?" Dawn asked while looking over her shoulder.

"Yeah, the woman who taught me about Immortality and stuff. Amanda's lived for over a thousand years, she'll know what to do."

* * *

Allen Pitt: Thank you for your comments. Nope, she won't get any super powers. Buffy and the others will find out, I already know in which story that will happen, but it won't happen quite like you'd expect it to. The Wish will definitely happen. It is actually one of the stories I'm most looking forward to writing. The only problem with that is that so much has to happen before that. As for Glory... well it will take a while before she shows up in _this_ timeline. And as for age, that's one of the reasons for having Things that Matter and its sequels around. Age is one of those other things I won't mess with, except during her dreams. Oh, and eh. That Band Candy thing? I think Dark, Darker, … prevented that from happening.

Bob-from-Accounting: Thank you for your comments as well. I'm glad you like my cliffhangers, and curse them as well. It means that they do what they're supposed to do. That was a pretty loaded question though, and I can't really answer too much of it without giving things away that I really shouldn't. Anyway, there are several things that happen in this story that are important. One of which should only become obvious in the final chapter. Well, during the last part of that chapter actually. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Stepping under the hot shower was bliss, and Cordelia made sure to enjoy it to its fullest extent. Yes, this felt so good. With her eyes closed she allowed the water to pound the caked blood into submission, until it started pouring off of her. And only once the worst was gone, making her feel human again, did she open her eyes.

As expected, the water was red. Looking as if someone had dumped a can of red paint in it, or as if someone had bled to death. Something that was far closer to the truth. But despite the many wounds she'd suffered during the day, the blood wasn't all hers.

Next to her in the large cabin was a young girl, a girl she was only now starting to understand had been hiding just like her. Whereas Cordelia Chase was a complete fabrication, Dawn Summers was real, but had been changed by the magic unleashed by Ethan Rayne.

And ever since that fateful Halloween she'd been acting as if she was an innocent little girl, acting as if she wasn't a cold-blooded killer her actions today showed she was. But even now, after having seen the girl's handiwork, and even experiencing it firsthand, it was still hard to accept. Her behavior was creepy, even now under the shower. Unlike her, Dawn wasn't enjoying the water, but instead vigorously scrubbing all evidence from her body.

The look of concentration on the girl's face as she checked her fingers for any sign of blood could in Cordelia's opinion only be described as cute. Cute as hell even, although that kind of thing shouldn't be mentioned on the Hellmouth. Still, it kinda reminded her of the way Hazel could sometimes act.

An almost physical pain surged through her body at that thought. Hazel, how she missed her sister. The girl had suffered as much as she had when their father died, and then she'd had to suffer even more as her brother and sister died. Something that had turned her into a shell of the girl she once was, and the woman she could have become. The three of them had been so close, and Cordelia could only imagine how it must have been for Hazel and their mother to suddenly lose another two members of their family.

But the worst part was perhaps that they'd lost only a single member, as she had survived. Even in those years before she met Amanda though, Cordelia, or rather Cisiphone, had wandered the land alone. Never going close to anyone she cared about, fearing that they would suffer because of the curse she bore.

It had been a time of confusion for her, a time during which she couldn't understand what was going on. Why was she still alive? What was her purpose in life? Why couldn't she die? Had some higher being arranged for her to live? Had it been God, or the devil? And did either of those two even exist anymore? Because how could a kind and just God allow what had happened to her?

And for that matter, how could He have allowed what she did to those men? She spent years searching for the answers to those questions, but never found them. While that was a disappointment, there was also the fact that she changed in ways she hadn't imagined. Where Callidora had been a mostly useless creature, a product of her times, Cisiphone had been capable of taking care of herself. A lesson that was learned the hard way.

The very hard way. Even now, remembering the times she'd died of things like food poisoning wasn't easy to handle. And those were the good times. While some things did indeed kill her, it was the things that didn't kill her that taught her the value of knowledge about herbs. Dying was usually a fairly quick event, with a few painful exceptions.

There were those times that she encountered something her Immortal constitution handled enough to keep her alive, but not enough to stop it from hurting...

That had been bad.

She'd spend hours rolling over the ground from pain, holding herself. But in the end, she always got back up, and continued walking. It was only much later that she realized how different she was from the young woman who had been stabbed after those brigands had been done raping her. She was so different, that she probably could have returned home to look in on Hazel and mother without having to fear being recognized.

Gone were the pretty dresses, making way for more functional garb. No longer did she bathe on a daily basis, or have her make-up applied. Even her hair had been cut short because it was too difficult to handle the way it used to be.

She was the woman who lived in the woods. And it wasn't long before rumors had started about her, although she never knew about that until Amanda had told her about them. But there were others who heard about it, others who figured out what she was. And they wanted her head. And because of one of those headhunters she was brought back to civilization.

She clearly remembered when that had happened. It had been a nice summer day, and it was while walking through the forest, traveling from one town to the next, that she heard the clashing of swords. The years of solitude had enhanced her already great curiosity, and she had gone to check it out. Arriving at the clearing, she was surprised to find that there were only two people present.

A man and a woman. Within minutes it was obvious that they were both very good with their weapons, both having a level of skill that far outclassed that of anyone she'd ever seen. Including even Charles. Later she would realize how much sense it made for these two to be so much better, but when she first laid eyes on the scene, she had no idea that both of these people were hundreds of years old.

The battle between the two raged on though, and she had hidden herself far enough that they wouldn't be distracted by her. More out of self-preservation than anything else. But when the woman suddenly made a mistake and was disarmed, she made a decision. It didn't matter to her that the woman was obviously as good as the man, all she could think of was the time when she herself had died.

"There can be only one," Cordelia whispered while remembering how the man spoke those same words.

"What?" Dawn interrupted her thoughts, while looking at her a bit strangely, making Cordelia realize she had been staring at the young girl.

"Sorry, I was immersed in thoughts there for a moment."

The girl seemed to understand that, and told her it wasn't a problem, before asking another question. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. It's just that some of these memories..." she trailed off while considering the best way to put it. Suddenly she shrugged, and decided she might as well tell Dawn a bit about it. Maybe the girl would return the favor later on. "Well, I was thinking about the time after I retrieved the sword."

"What did you do then? I take it you didn't go home."

"No, I didn't. How could I? I was a member of the walking dead, or at least that's what I thought at the time."

"You don't think so anymore?"

"No, vampires are the walking dead, as are zombies, but my kind is alive. Our hearts beat, we need oxygen to breathe, everything."

"You mentioned hiding your Quickening earlier, what did you mean by that?"

Hadn't she explained that already? Furrowing her brow in thought, Cordelia realized that she had indeed forgotten to do so. "The Quickening is also used to identify ourselves to others of our race. We can feel each other's Quickening, although I'm not sure if feel is the right word. Sense maybe, it's hard to describe."

"Right," Dawn nodded, "so you made sure nobody else could sense you, while also hiding somewhere they wouldn't come."

"Yes."

"One thing I'm wondering about though, how come you didn't heal this fast before? You spent a couple of days in the hospital after you got speared, and I've seen you walk around with bruises and stuff."

Heal, good thing Dawn started about it herself, or she might have forgotten again. "Turn around, I want to check your back now that it isn't completely covered in blood." The girl did as she was told, and when she turned around Cordelia was shocked by how bad the wound actually was. How could she have walked around with that? Or better yet, how could she have dragged people around with a wound like that?

"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" Dawn asked in a calm voice.

"No, it's not-"

But the girl didn't even let her finish the sentence. "Don't lie to me, that doesn't help me. I know my body well enough to know that the damage is pretty severe. Please describe the wound for me."

Cordelia wasn't exactly happy with that thought, it wasn't that she'd never seen wounds before, but it usually was either her own, which would heal, or far enough away that it didn't concern her. Being so close to such an ugly looking wound wasn't something she enjoyed. "Alright. It's a single diagonal slash, going down from your collar bone about two thirds of the way to your right hip."

In a monotonous voice she then started to describe the particulars, while putting her fingers on the skin surrounding the start of the wound near her shoulder. Compared to the rest of her body, the skin was slightly hotter there, indicating Dawn's body was doing its best to repel the infection that was undoubtedly starting to set in. She then traced the wound down the girl's back, in an attempt to see if there was any region in particular that was more painful, causing Dawn to shiver.

It might not be the nicest way to diagnose a wound, but Cordelia hadn't needed a doctor for centuries, and had never bothered with learning how to become one either. While nowadays it was possible for her to take on such a job, it required a study of a length that would tax her abilities of disguise. And what was the use of spending years and years of study if it meant she'd have to move on shortly after finishing?

Of course, she didn't need to specialize that far, but then what was the use of doing it at all? It wasn't like anyone but a specialist actually held the status that would be her only reason for learning to be a doctor. "Cordy?"

Once again Dawn had shaken her from her thoughts, what was with her today? Was the constant tension getting too much for her? Well yeah, she'd already admitted that to herself, but that didn't mean she could simply space out. "That's about it, actually. Here, let me take a washing cloth and I'll clean it up."

When she was done cleaning the wound, or at least as much as she could do while under the shower, she had Dawn scrub her back clean of any remaining blood as well. Only then, when she was fairly certain both of them were as clean as they'd get, did Cordelia turn of the shower and got out.

Handing a big fluffy towel to the girl whose behavior reminded her of her own sister, she couldn't help but stare at the scars that decorated Dawn's torso. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked, while toweling her hair dry.

Extending her hand so that she could touch the ugly scar on the girl's abdomen, Cordelia repeated her question. "This looks pretty bad, did you have to take care of that wound yourself as well?"

"Something like that. I messed up during a mission. It was a good lesson."

"A good lesson? My god girl, a wound like that could kill you."

"Only if it goes untreated for too long. It didn't."

Slowly Cordelia traced her hand from scar to scar, only dimly wondering why she touched Dawn so much. "So many," she then whispered. "So many wounds, and nobody ever noticed?"

"None of you at least."

"Your friends?"

"They know."

How had those two found out then? Cordelia didn't know the two kids very well, although they did hang around in the same crowd of the rich. It didn't matter right now though, there were more important things to do. Quickly she dried herself off, wrapping a towel around her soaking wet hair, before demanding Dawn's towel. "I'll do your back, otherwise you'll probably only make it worse."

As Dawn nodded and turned around, Cordelia once again winced while looking at her back. In the shower she'd only paid attention to the open wound, but now she could see that the girl's back was just as decorated with scars as the front. What had she been doing? This wasn't normal, not even for the Hellmouth, and only served to make her more curious.

"Done," she whispered when she was had finished drying the rest of the girl. Alright, time to deal with the wound. Hanging the towel to dry, she put on a robe herself, picked up a dry towel, and after handing that to Dawn she opened the medicine cabinet. "Okay, I'm not good at this stuff. What do we need to disinfect the wound?"

In a calm and easy voice, something Cordelia admired even more now that she'd seen the extent of the damage, Dawn directed her to the appropriate medicines. "Yes, and the one next to that as well. That's all."

"Good. Now, let's get you lying on a bed, so we can do this." The walk to the master bedroom was short, but its normality almost freaked Cordelia out. Below her, only a couple of meters away, there were a bunch of bodies. The people posing as her parents, and the four people that had attacked her. It just didn't feel right to walk around with bare feet in such a situation.

But it wasn't long before they'd reached the room, and taking the towel from Dawn, Cordelia spread it out on the bed before directing the girl to lie down on it. "So, what do I do first?"

Another lesson in medicine followed, until she knew what to do and could spend some of her attention on other things. "Tell me a little about yourself Dawn, or do I call you Kirika?"

Dawn stiffened a bit, and Cordelia had to wait until she had calmed down again before continuing her ministrations. "Dawn, I'm Dawn."

"Alright Dawn. I've told you a part of my life's story. Why don't you return the favor? In particular the part about you being an assassin, because now that I think about it, there were a number of strange deaths. Like that vampire during Halloween, or that costume-shop owner."

It remained silent for a couple of minutes, but Cordelia was patient and waited for Dawn to speak up. "During Halloween I was Kirika, she didn't know how to kill vampires."

"Everybody knows that," Cordelia scoffed, "it's in every cheesy movie ever made."

"Kirika didn't really have a normal upbringing, she never really watched television, she preferred the company of her own thoughts. Not that they had television where she grew up anyway."

"That anime show she's from, that didn't take place in the eighteenth century or something, did it? Because I've got a hard time believing anyone is without a television these days."

"No, it took place about eleven years from now."

"In the future? But without access to any fashion shows?"

"I, she, grew up in the Manor. A place outside of time. Except for the weapons, it might as well have been the eighteenth century."

"Huh, weird. I can't believe anyone would voluntarily live without all these wonderful things people have nowadays. But then, I never understood monks, hermits, or even nuns either."

"It was where Noir was trained. Well, Chloe and I at least." Again with the I, didn't the girl know whether or not she was this Kirika? "Mireille was taught by her uncle."

"And who are they?"

"Kirika's partners, she knew Chloe for a long time, and after she had lost her memory she'd contacted Mireille."

"So, I take it they're assassins as well?" Cordelia asked while looking around to see where she'd put the bandage. She had finished putting all the stuff, she'd forgotten the name already, on Dawn's back and now it was time to mummify the girl.

"Yes, but they had completely different personalities."

Of course they had, that's the way humans work. "You liked them though."

Dawn uttered a deep regretful sigh. "Yeah, I did. Chloe was interesting to watch while she was doing her job, she was really into it you know. And Mireille..." Another deep sigh, although this one sounded more longing than regretful. "Mireille was my other half."

"Your other half? What were you married or something?" Cordelia asked before telling Dawn to sit up so she could put the bandages around her.

The girl did so, and while doing so turned her head so that she could look at Cordelia. "No, not like that. But she completed me, she was the other half of Noir. The other half of the perfect team of assassins."

"Well, I don't know where you hid it all this time, but you've sure got an ego going on, don't you?"

"Perhaps."

"And Chloe? You said she was your partner as well. How did that work, if this Mireille already was."

"Chloe wanted to be the other half of Noir. In the end, I was forced to choose, Mireille's life for Chloe's."

"You killed her." This time it was Cordelia who could make a statement.

"Yes." Dawn winced as Cordelia pulled the bandages a bit too tight. "There was no choice and shortly after that Mireille and I became Noir. We never really finished the ceremony, but I'm pretty sure things went as Altena thought they would."

Another name, but this time she'd had enough of them and refrained from asking. At least about that Altena character. "What's so special about becoming Noir then?"

"Noir is a class apart, there is nothing quite like it. The best of the best, and all that."

"You sound like some kind of bad movie," Cordelia noted.

"Thanks," Dawn said in a neutral tone, leaving her to wonder whether the girl had just thanked her, sarcastically, for the comment, or for finishing with the bandages.

"You're welcome."

"Do you have some clothes I can borrow?"

"I might, I'm not sure if it'll be a good fit though."

A shrug from Dawn showed how much she cared about that. "As long as I don't have to walk around naked."

Well, she had a point there, Cordelia conceded before showing Dawn the closet. "Here, pick what you like."

"This is your bedroom?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"It's the biggest one, I figured it belonged to your parents."

Anthony, Patricia. Once again Cordelia had to close her eyes to deal with the pain of those memories. "Not my parents, servants. And remember, I'm a spoiled brat, so I get the biggest bedroom."

"Right." Dawn whispered while looking the clothes over. Cordelia did the same and quickly picked out a decent enough outfit, for once not bothering to achieve the perfect look. The two of them then dressed in silence, until they finally walked downstairs again where Dawn showed her the room with the bodies. An experience Cordelia could have done without.

"What a mess." The smile that flashed across Dawn's face drew her attention away from the grisly scene however. "What?"

"You really are so much like her," the girl whispered in wonderment.

"Like who?"

"Mireille."

"I'm like one of your assassin friends? Somehow I'm not too happy about that comparison."

Dawn's eyes flashed in restrained anger as she speared her with a look. "Don't talk like that about Mireille. She was no common assassin. She was... Mireille."

Right. And the girl was sure that this Mireille was only a partner? Somehow Cordelia doubted the truthfulness of that statement. Not that she planned on pissing off Dawn so she decided an apology was probably in order. "Whatever. I didn't mean to denigrate her or anything, it just came as a surprise, that's all."

But it didn't matter anymore. Dawn had already turned back to the scene, not bothering to continue that discussion. "We'll need to move them. There is a van in the garage, I take it that doesn't belong to you?"

"A van? What would I want with something as common as that? Who do I look like, Oz?"

"The easiest thing would probably be to put the bodies in, and drive it off a cliff."

"And how will we get back here then? Call a cab?" Cordelia asked sarcastically.

"What? No, you drive your car, I'll drive the van."

"You can drive?"

"Who can't?"

Well, that was just too easy. "Your sister for one."

x.x.x

As always, there wasn't much that Methos, also known as Adam Pierson, enjoyed more than nursing a beer. Well, there were things, but they weren't exactly things civilization found acceptable to do in public.

He missed MacLeod though, not the complications that always came with his friend, but he was used to seeing the Scot in Seacouver.

Unfortunately, MacLeod was out on some kind of buying trip and had therefore not been here when he arrived. And to make matters worse, the man had neglected to keep some decent beer in his fridge, ensuring that breaking into his loft had been an exercise in futility.

Which brought him here, to the only other place in Seacouver he could be certain that nobody would bug him about paying for his drinks. Not that Joe never mentioned the tab he had running, but his mortal friend never demanded that he'd actually pay it. Which had turned it into a game for Methos. He wanted to see how high the tab could go before Joe would actually demand he'd pay it.

It wasn't that he couldn't afford it either, while he wasn't exactly rich, living for over 5000 years did ensure one usually had some things to fall back on. A house here, some priceless antique he'd bought for almost nothing there, an estate in that country, and a castle in another. Okay, if you started counting it all it would probably amount to quite a bit.

But where would the fun be if you couldn't bother your friends for free drinks? With a feeling of supreme contentment he emptied his glass of liquid gold and waved his empty glass at Joe, his silent request for a refill.

Joe brought him the fresh glass, and sat down at the same table. "So, how long are you going to be in town?"

"I'm not sure," Methos started when he was suddenly distracted by the all too familiar feeling of the buzz. An immortal was near.

While keeping up his part of the conversation, he scanned the bar, quickly coming to realize what he'd already suspected. It was someone from outside, and whoever it was would probably come in here. Luckily for him, Methos didn't have any trouble hiding the fact that he felt the buzz, and under the guise of talking to Joe he was gearing for action.

Every time he encountered another Immortal could be the last time, every time it happened his long life could come to an end. And every time it happened he wanted to make sure that it wasn't his life that would end. Adrenaline started flooding his system, bringing everything to a state of readiness, and he moved ever so slightly to ensure that if the worst came about he had a clear path to the door.

He didn't like fighting, especially when it was a fair fight. Not because he couldn't stand his own, but because there were always a chance that something happened that he hadn't been able to plan for. Of course, if that was the case he wondered why he was hanging around MacLeod so much. If there was anyone that attracted violence it was the Highlander.

Still, he had no intention of actually fighting whoever it was that came through the door. It couldn't be MacLeod, Joe had told him that it would be at least several days before the Highlander returned. So he had to assume that whoever it was was a danger to him, and blending into the crowd would help him in that regard. It was difficult to recognize an Immortal if he didn't show he was feeling the buzz as well.

Of course, the fact that from his current position he could watch the door through its reflection in the mirror over the bar would give him a decent advantage as well. Those first seconds were always the most important, and if it was someone after his head, instead of any random head, he would be able to shoot the Immortal before he or she reached him.

When the door opened however, he noticed with relief that it was only Richie. The boy was far from a danger and it was unlikely he would ever attack Methos. Especially after the way he'd helped when it came to dealing with that Ahriman demon. By the gods, how could MacLeod have lived for so long without ever discovering the existence of demons?

Who knew what might have happened if he hadn't been around during that event, the demon might have actually succeeded in its goal. Not that he knew what that goal might have been, but it couldn't have been a good thing. From what he remembered of Ahriman the creature used illusions, usually of people who had died, to further its goal.

Which was the reason he'd believed the lunatic who'd come to tell MacLeod that he was the Champion. Right, the Champion. If there ever was a title Methos had no intention of bearing it was that one. When it came to mystical matters, a Champion was always some plaything of the Powers that Be. The supposedly all-powerful guardians of the human race.

Powers that Be, hah! They were about as useful as the Knights That Say "Ni!". And about as nice as well. The stories he'd heard about how they treated their Champions weren't describing things he wanted MacLeod to suffer. Not that he couldn't understand why they would sacrifice a couple of people to ensure something better would happen later on, he was after all able to benefit from those experiences. But their cavalier attitude to human lives bothered him.

Yes, Methos realized that was ironic when considering his own past, but he had never claimed to be helping the human race either. Anyway, while these thoughts had crossed his minds in a matter of moments, he needed to bring his attention back to the door. While Richie wasn't a danger to him, he was now able to recognize that there was more than a single buzz.

He tensed up slightly again, until he recognized the shapely woman who walked through the door. Her repetition of Richie's scanning of the room was far better hidden, but when her eyes landed on him she called out. "Joe, Adam! Darlings, it's been too long."

His quiet time of drinking was over now, Amanda had arrived. Taking the still full glass, he emptied it in one pull before a grin crossed his face. Well, it might not be quiet anymore but, aside from bringing even more trouble than even MacLeod, Amanda did know how to have a good time.

"Amanda, Richie. Sit, have a drink. This one's on me, would you mind putting it on my tab Joe?" Maybe paying, or rather not paying, for the drinks of other people would make Joe demand he'd actually pay the tab.

"Adam? Is that really you?" Richie asked a bit uncertain.

"What?" he answered while checking himself. Nope, nothing seemed wrong, and a quick look in the mirror showed him that he still looked the same as well. "Is something wrong?"

"Paying for a drink? I don't remember you ever buying me something before."

"Oh shut up, you young pup," Methos answered a bit irritably. He was paying now, wasn't he? Well, not really of course but that wasn't the point.

"No, no. You see, I always see you leach from someone, and now that I'm seeing you buy something, I simply have to enjoy the moment."

"Wonderful," he said, before turning his head to look at Amanda who had already taken a seat. "And you? Are you going to say something as well?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Good. He nodded his agreement with that statement and was about to turn away from her as well when she went on. "After all, unlike Richie, I know how to enjoy a miracle in silence."

"Children, all of them," Methos sighed while turning back to Joe who was obviously struggling with his composure. "Can you believe them? They can't even accept a free drink. Well, in that case, why don't I take three beers and let them pay for themselves?"

This obviously didn't sit well with Richie. "Hey! You said you'd get me a drink, you're not going back on your word are you?"

"And why should I give anything to people who don't appreciate it? If I'd known how people nowadays react to being given a free drink, I'd never have offered it. When I'm offered a drink, do you see me being suspicious of the one giving it to me?"

"Adam, you're always suspicious," Joe said as he entered the discussion.

"Thank you for helping me Joe, but have you ever heard me complain when someone offers me a drink?"

"Only when it's not what you want," Richie sighed, probably already seeing that he couldn't possibly win this.

"Exactly, so why should you complain? Do you do the same when a beautiful woman offers you a drink? Maybe a cup of coffee after you've brought her home?"

"No, but this is you we're talking about. The one leach to rule them all."

Okay, that was a pretty funny line. But still... "There were times-"

"When having someone leaching from you was a sign of status," the other three more or less finished. The impact probably would have been greater if they'd done so simultaneously, but he was happy they remembered nonetheless.

"Exactly."

"You've given Mac that line so often it's not even funny anymore. And you usually did so after he complained you'd just emptied his stash of beer."

"I'm being kind to him. He could use a boost where it comes to his status," Methos explained.

"Speaking of Duncan," Amanda cut in while turning to Joe. "Do you happen to know when he'll return? I didn't expect him to be gone when I arrived."

Amanda had only arrived here today as well? Now that was a coincidence, of course he should have realized that considering he hadn't seen any of her things in MacLeod's place. But as he was interested in Joe's answer as well, he listened to what the Watcher had to say.

"No, he told me it wouldn't take more than a week, but you never know for sure."

Now that was the truth, MacLeod was so easily distracted. A nice pair of legs here, a headhunter there. Never a dull moment for the Highlander. "He left two days ago, didn't he?" Methos asked for confirmation.

He already knew the answer, as both Richie and Joe had told him the same thing, but he just didn't like it when he couldn't make use of MacLeod's hospitality.

"Yes," Joe answered. "So he should be back in about five days. More than enough time for you to empty my beer supply."

"You wound me Joe, that's really not a nice thing to say."

"Ah, is the poor old man hurt?" Richie teased him, trying to get back in the game after his sound defeat earlier.

Methos only smirked though, before loudly wondering what kept his drinks. A wave from Joe to the bartender sped up the process, without the mortal having to use his prosthetic legs. But when they were finally delivered, it wasn't the three beers he'd demanded. "What's this?"

"On the house, Adam, on the house," Joe answered Methos while the other two thanked the mortal.

"You thank him, but you ridiculed me? And you dare call yourselves my friends?"

"Don't worry Adam, while we call Duncan a friend, you are his personal leach. We don't have to do the same to you," Amanda answered before sipping from her glass of wine.

"Oh thank you very much, that's too kind of you." He was starting to get curious by now though. "What brings you here anyway?"

"There's a problem I was hoping Duncan could help me with."

Putting the cold beer to his lips, Methos couldn't resist rolling his eyes, and muttering. "What else is new?"

"I'm not in any trouble!" Amanda exclaimed in pointed denial, before toning her reaction down a bit. "Well, at least not from the law."

"Really? You haven't stolen anything lately?"

"Of course not! Who do you think I am?"

Methos only raised one of his eyebrows, while both Richie and Joe blinked in surprise. "Amanda?"

"Alright, but it's nothing that can be traced back to me. And it has nothing to do with my situation either. Which is more of an, ah old, matter."

She had Immortal trouble? Well, in that case it might just be that he'd overstayed his welcome. Maybe he should go take a short break, somewhere warm, maybe California. He could come back to speak with MacLeod in about a month or two. There were a lot of fun things he could do while the Highlander was working on getting Amanda out of trouble.

"What's the problem then?" Richie asked in a hushed tone while leaning over the table, causing Methos once again to roll his eyes. Wouldn't the youngster ever learn how to hide what he was doing?

"It's not so much something that's happening to me, as it is to my students," Amanda said a bit nervously.

Her students? What could be the problem then? Now he was getting a bit curious himself, Amanda in trouble was nothing new, but Amanda in trouble through someone else... Okay that wasn't new either, but at least it was a variation of the usual theme. "What do you mean?"

"I-" she started, but was cut off when the bartender called out to her.

"Amanda?"

With a look of displeasure on her face, the beautiful woman turned around. "Yes?"

"You've got a phone call," the bartender answered while nodding at the phone he was covering with his hands.

"I'm coming," she answered him, before turning back. "We'll continue this in a minute."

"Of course," Methos told her, wondering who the caller could be. It wasn't like none of them ever received a call here, but it didn't happen very often either. And when it did it was usually rather important. But aside from a surprised 'Callie?' he couldn't hear what she was saying and turned his attention back to the others.

"Did she tell you anything Richie?" Joe asked, obviously unaware of Amanda's problem as well. Which in itself was interesting as he was usually the first to know if something went on with one of them. After all, despite the fact that they never found him, the Watchers were rather good at their job.

"No, she was looking for Mac, and when he wasn't around she wasn't very happy. Which is why I proposed coming here, maybe you'd have more recent information on where he was."

"I couldn't discuss the reports from his Watcher, but even if I could there wouldn't be anything new to tell you." In other words, Joe hadn't heard anything.

"His Watcher? But you're his Watcher aren't you?"

"I've gotten a bit too old to run around after him the entire time, and with the amount of attention he receives from Immortals, it was decided that an additional Watcher might not be a bad idea. Especially one he wouldn't know about."

"You sneaky bastard," Methos said admiringly, "you actually managed to have him tagged without him knowing about it? I can't wait to tell MacLeod about that, it'll make my day."

"Don't say anything to him Adam, he'll just be spending all day looking over his shoulder and trying to discover who it is. You know how he is."

"But shouldn't he know who his Watcher is?" Richie asked with a frown on his face, before emptying his glass.

"He'll always have a Watcher Richie and just because he's friends with Joe doesn't mean MacLeod can expect the same thing with his future Watchers. No, I think Joe is right here, it's best if he doesn't know. No matter how much I would've loved to see his face."

By the time he finished that he noticed Amanda hanging up the phone and walking back to them. He frowned when he noticed how white her face looked though, but refrained from speaking until she had reached them. "What is it?"

"That was one of my students, Callidora, and she proved that my problem is bigger than I thought."

"How so? And what's your problem anyway? And for that matter, who is Callidora? I can't remember ever hearing about her."

"Callie was born in England, probably halfway during the seventeenth century, she is, was, some kind of noblewoman when she had her first death. Probably someone well known, although she always tells conflicting stories about who her family actually was."

"Couldn't she just be some kind of fraud then? I mean, pretending to be a noblewoman?"

"You obviously never lived in that time Richie," Methos laughed. Seeing the hurt look on the boy's face he decided to explain his comment. "Nobody but a noblewoman herself could ever claim such a title. Not that there weren't people who tried, but no matter what you say about the nobility, and I can say a lot about them, they could recognize a fraud."

"Not always," Amanda smiled, reminding him that she'd undoubtedly pretended to be highborn for easy access to something shiny she wanted. "While it's true that it wasn't exactly easy to hide the fact that you were a farmer's wife, the only things you really needed to gain access to them was the right accent, knowledge of etiquette, being able to fake an education, and some nice excuses why your favorite aunt or other family member couldn't be reached. If you had to stay among them longer it would have become more difficult though."

"Ugh, why would you ever want to stay among such a useless bunch of people for long?"

"They weren't all useless," Amanda interrupted, "although most of the women, and a fair number of the men, were pretty useless pieces of decoration, there were a number of decent people as well. The only problem the women had was that they had to hide any intelligence they might possess, it wasn't usually a desired trait."

She took a deep breath then, before trying again. "Anyway, as I was saying, Callie had been killed together with her brother, that much I know for sure, and had gone to exact revenge on those that did so."

"Wait a minute, one of those pieces of fluff was going to do some fighting?"

"I don't understand why you constantly underestimate them, Adam, didn't you pay any attention to what they were doing?"

"Are you kidding? I stayed away from the nobility as much as I could. So, where and when was this? England? During that civil war with the useless king?"

Amanda appeared surprised that she hadn't told them that yet, but quickly corrected her omission. "England yes, but after the Restoration. Although for some reason Callie liked Charles I, probably something to do with her family I guess. She also used to go on and on about how she would have married a peer of the realm if she hadn't been killed. I think she would have been happier if that had happened."

"No, really? Someone would be happier if they hadn't died?" Methos exclaimed in mock surprise. "What is this world coming to?"

"Shut up Adam, I was explaining the situation here. Anyway, she had gone on a rampage before starting to live in the woods. During that time she tried to remain alone, although she didn't stop killing. Maybe you heard of her during that time, she called herself Cisiphone."

Methos thought about it, but quickly concluded that he hadn't heard about anyone with that name. "No, sorry. I take it she named herself after one the Furies though?"

"Yes, one of her failings. She always chooses a name that starts with a C," Amanda nodded.

Well, he couldn't be entirely sure of course, but it seemed to him that keeping the same letter was better than keeping the same name entirely like certain other people did. But he would remain quiet, no point in upsetting Amanda even more.

"How did the two of you meet then?" Richie asked, while Joe looked intently on. Somehow, Methos thought amused, he had a feeling that if Joe believed he could spare a moment he would've collected pen and paper, and been busy writing things down.

"I was Challenged," Amanda started her explanation.

"Challenged? By her?"

"Oh no, she had no idea what she was at the time. No, it was Svenson, or Stevenson, or something like that. A big Scandinavian brute who was about to kill me when Callie came running up." She shook her head at that memory before going on. "The crazy girl thought she couldn't die so didn't even try to ward off the blows. Her actions must have scared Svenson though, as he didn't kill her.

"Or rather," she mused, "didn't succeed in actually killing her. And by the time she'd planted her sword through his heart it was a bit too late for him."

"You're telling me that someone untrained defeated an Immortal who by the sounds of it had you on your knees?" Methos asked incredulously.

"Yes. Of course you realize that Svenson hadn't exactly expected anyone to interfere with the challenge, so wasn't prepared for something like that. And let me tell you as well that someone who doesn't care about getting hurt at all is not someone you want to face in a fight. Ever."

Oh, she didn't have to tell him that, Methos had seen enough people like that in his life. Luckily most of them were mortals, but even they were far too dangerous. He could see from Joe's expression that he'd encountered some people like that in Vietnam as well, but, despite his experience on the streets of Seacouver, this seemed new to Richie.

Lucky kid. "So, I take it this Callidora took Svenson's head."

And this was where Amanda started laughing, despite all the problems she was presumably having at the moment. "No, not really. She believed she was done when he fell over. She then came over to me, despite all her wounds and tried to help me. I wasn't exactly in a great state at the time however, and it took me a while to tell her what she needed to do. The look she gave me was priceless, every time I think about it I have to laugh."

"If you laughed then as well, I'm half-surprised she didn't take your head as well."

"Oh no, even after I'd explained to her what he was she didn't take his head. Of course, I didn't know she was nobility at the time, otherwise I might not have asked her to do it in the first place, but that look." This time she laughed so hard that the other patrons in the bar looked over to see what was going on. And it was only after a couple of minutes that she'd regained enough breath to continue speaking.

"Anyway, I was the one who had to take on the ah 'dirty' job of beheading a corpse. Not that she didn't stay to watch or anything, apparently she didn't have any trouble with seeing it done, she just didn't want to get her hands dirty. And of course, as a result we shared that Quickening."

"You shared a Quickening?" Joe asked with wide eyes. "How come I've never heard of this before?"

Amanda simply shrugged. "I don't know, at the time I didn't even know what a Watcher was, let alone if I had one."

"But why didn't you tell me? Were there any side-effects? Did the two of you have any kind of special bond after that?"

"No. Well, unless you count the fact that she deigned to learn from a common thief."

"Deigned?" Richie asked, obviously not familiar with the word.

"She means that this Callie lowered herself to accept the lessons," Methos explained.

"Oh right, why couldn't you just say so?"

"Because that's how Callie said it. She isn't exactly the best people person in the world, most people find her taxing as she's far too blunt. Well, that and the fact that she likes to put people in their place, or rather the place she believes they should be." She sobered then, losing her happy demeanor from before. "And now she's been drawn into my problems."

"The problems you wanted MacLeod to help you with?"

"Yes, unless Joe wants to."

"Me?" Joe asked surprised, until he realized what she had to be asking. "Oh no, I can't tell you anything about Immortals. Don't even ask me."

"I just need to know how they died. Please?" Amanda begged with as sweet an expression on her face as she could manage. Which, in Methos' opinion, was pretty sweet.

But Joe shook his head in denial. "No, I don't know who you want to know anything about, but no. And that's final."

"It doesn't matter much anyway, I've got to go to Callie. She isn't capable of handling all this herself."

"Amanda? We still don't know what you're talking about."

She frowned at that. "Are you sure? Because I'd swear... oh well, I probably forgot to actually tell you. It's my students, Callie is the third that's been attacked, and the only one who survived."

"I'm sorry about that," Methos said, although he didn't care that much, "but that sort of thing does happen."

"Not three times in two days it doesn't," Amanda bit back. "Well four in three now."

He blinked in surprise. In fact, he blinked a second time. Because she was right, it wasn't very often that that three students of the same teacher got attacked in such a short time. "Did they live together? Or close to each other?"

"Rome, Buenos Aires, Limerick, and now Callie who lives in Southern California. So I have to say no to that."

"That's weird, and now you're going to this Callie?"

"Yes, at least I can get to California pretty quick from here. Hey, I just got a grand idea. Duncan may not be here, but why don't you two come along to help me deal with this?"

"Ah, Amanda? I'd rather relax for a while, quiet is good, it helps you live longer."

"Oh come on Adam, where's your sense of fun? Did I protest when you wanted to look for the Methusalah stone?"

"No, but I didn't ask you to take care of someone hunting your friends either."

"It won't be so bad, Callie said she had a friend who took care of most of her attackers. So you probably won't have to do much, simply enjoy the sun, the air, and the beautiful company."

"Beautiful?" Richie asked, as always first thinking with his hormones, while Methos' desire to live was warring with the seductive picture Amanda had painted.

"Of course, haven't I shown you what she looks like yet?" She then searched in her purse, until she found her wallet and took a picture out of it. "Here, this picture is a couple of years old. I think she lived in Bangalore when this was taken, she owns some kind of estate there."

"She's beautiful," Richie breathed, almost panting over the picture. Or at least, that's how Methos chose to describe it. "How old was she when she died?"

"Almost seventeen," Amanda whispered seductively, probably realizing that she'd just gained at least one ally in her quest to help her student. And this made Methos' position even more difficult; how could he let the young Immortal go face who-knows-what if he might be able to help? MacLeod would never forgive him for doing that. Which meant he'd have to go without those free beers for at least a couple of years.

"Alright, I'm in too. Now show me that picture so I know what the damsel in distress looks like."

x.x.x

The first thing she noticed upon waking up was the music. The sweet tones of the songs that were the soundtrack of her life. No, not her life, Kirika's life. She was Dawn. Once again she was in control of her own body.

Letting out a deep, but silent, sigh of relief she kept her eyes closed and focused her other senses on the environment. Even if she hadn't recognized the agitated voices of her best friends, she would have known where she was. This strange mix of smells could only exist in Jane's room, she wanted to hear what her friends were talking about, but the CD switched tracks and played the song she couldn't handle. _Canta per me_.

For the first time since the events in Los Angeles where she, or rather her body, had so brutally murdered those people did she allow her emotions free reign. Hot tears stung in her eyes and it wasn't long before she felt the liquid trail down her cheeks, eventually even tasting their saltiness as the tears reached her mouth.

But she rallied herself, or tried to at least. She wasn't here to cry over some silly bit of music. Oh no, she was here for a completely different reason. And there was no doubt in Dawn's mind that once she'd calmed down she'd remember what it was too.

In an effort to distract herself, Dawn focused once again on the dream she had just awoken from. Which was a big problem all on its own. Before today she'd already had these crazy dreams, but now she'd turned into some kind of serial dreamer. Not something she was particularly happy about.

Alright, she couldn't write the dream down right now but she figured that didn't particularly matter anyway. Chances were that she'd continue the dream that night anyway. And she also knew what it was that had eluded Kirika. This dream came far too close to that Highlander series.

Not that she'd seen much of the series: she'd only watched a number of episodes with her father, but Cordelia was just like MacLeod. Immortal in the 'there can be only one' style. Which was of course a ridiculous concept, what possible use was that? Still, it wouldn't be a bad thing to prepare herself by looking into it. Wasn't there supposed to be a movie as well? Dawn dimly remembered hearing her father mention that, but she'd eventually grown bored with the series and had stopped watching it.

Strange though that in the dreams she didn't know about the series. No, that wasn't strange. Actually, she corrected herself, it was, but there were stranger things about that dream. Like the fact that she had it in the first place. Why would she be dreaming about Immortals?

Memories of her, or rather Kirika's, thoughts the night before came back to her then. She had been thinking about the possibility of immortal demons. Her subconscious had probably translated those thoughts into dreams. Yes, that was it. Nothing strange about it. That kind of thing happened all the time.

Except for the wounds. The wounds she'd received in the dream were closed here, Cordelia's kind treatment hadn't had any influence on that, but they still existed. Huh, Cordelia's kind treatment. Even to her own mind that sounded weird. The rich girl might be someone she liked, when she wasn't stealing Xander, but to call her kind was somewhat of a stretch.

Alright, Cordelia's actions concerning her wounds weren't the most important thing anyway. So she should also stop thinking about the whole shower thing. Now if it had been Xander... That was something Dawn wouldn't mind dreaming about. No! No fantasizing about Xander either. Where was he anyway? Oh yeah, Buffy had said something about going to the library, so that's probably where he was.

With this world's Cordelia. Someone he hadn't cheated on. It was a strange feeling, being angry with Xander for something he hadn't even done. Or at least not yet. Until she actually had a dream that she could verify predicted the real world, there simply was no way to know if she was dreaming of the future. Ugh, she hoped not. Those wizards might have fixed her watch, but they still seemed like a useless bunch of losers.

Now that was a place where she'd like to see Cordelia. She stifled a grin before it showed on her face as she imagined how the girl would tell everybody how bad their dresses were. And why were the guys wearing dresses anyway? No! Immortal Cordelia dream.

Right. Well, at least it was a fairly action-packed dream. Not that that made her feel a lot better as she was far too close to the action. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it had to leave her with scars from the wounds she'd received during it as well. That on its own was enough to ensure she didn't exactly think kindly of it.

Alright, what had happened? It had all started with Buffy asking her to talk to Cordelia, who she said was close to a nervous breakdown. Then she'd come upon Cordelia dying, and about to have her head cut off. Dawn had killed the man who was going to do that, only to see him rise again. And again. Until she finally cut off his head.

Then Cordelia woke up, Dawn no longer trusted her, but she'd gone along to her house anyway. And there they'd been attacked by some group of fairly competent people. Who she ended up killing as well, after which she cleaned up the scene while waiting for Cordelia to wake up. Cordelia who then explained her real name was Callidora although she didn't go as far as to confide her last name to her.

She hadn't had to go home because she'd explained things to her mother, who probably believed they'd spend the night watching cheesy movies and stuff. The reality was slightly different however, something that was proved as soon as Cordelia made her own phone call. The Immortal dialed a number in Canada, but only reached her teacher's assistant, or someone like that.

Which meant she received a whole list of telephone numbers to try, until finally ending up at the right place. A bar of all places. After a short explanation the teacher, Amanda she now recalled, agreed to come help. Which was when the real fun started, getting rid of the stinking corpses.

From what she could remember of the dream, Dawn figured she was sleeping there now, although she still had no idea how that worked. But it was magic, and magic did weird things. She moved away from her thoughts then, and once again focused on the room. Where she was surprised to hear the ending of the song she'd tried to ignore.

While she had hoped the whole thinking deal would have taken longer, she couldn't focus on anything but those sounds. Once again tears started to trail down her face, but aside from that she tried to remain motionless while listening to her friends talk.

"-hy not?"

"Who knows what they'd do to her if they found out who she is?"

That had been Sara, what was going on here? Jane answered her friend then. "I know! But I can't stand seeing her like this. She's dying, and that's not even taking into account the whole scars that suddenly appear thing."

"We can't tell anyone. If what we believe is true..." Oh yeah, now she remembered. The whole thing from before was coming back to her. Or rather, she was starting to access Kirika's memories of the event. At least it had been the assassin, in one identity or another, who'd been in control of her body. And not the freak again.

It was rather weird that they thought she was the Slayer though. She would really need to ask them how they came up with such a crazy notion. "I know. And it's even worse now. At least the Slayer thing was something I could understand, but how this happened..."

They no longer thought she was the Slayer? Concern and a sudden unexplainable fear gripped her heart causing her to look for her watch. The one thing in the world, aside from her mother, that could ground her.

It wasn't there.

Where? She started to think, but then realization came. Sara and Jane had it. They had discovered it when they put her on this bed. That made sense, and would explain why they no longer thought she was a Slayer. Opening her eyes she turned her head to look at her friends, who were staring right back.

"Good morning Dawn. Had a good nap?"

"Watch," she demanded. Not bothering to act nice right now, she needed the comfort it brought her. Even though she might be the one in control of her body again, that didn't mean Dawn was completely comfortable with everything again.

"You mean this watch?" Jane asked, while holding it up.

Dawn didn't bother answering verbally. The two of them knew who she was now. Maybe they weren't completely certain yet, but they were smart enough that they'd be able to find the required evidence in a short period of time. So she might as well confirm it.

Her heart was still beating fast, but she willed it slower until it reached a level at which it was hard to imagine she could do much more than breathe. But she knew how far she could go. The time that others had been in control of her body had been beneficial after all. They had already known how to be in total command of a body, and now that she could access their memories of how they did that...

With her heart taken care off, Dawn focused on the rest of her body. Not that she needed much, but the one thing that she really wanted to show her friends was the thing all three of them had thought so cool while watching the show. The way Kirika could look so completely emotionless. Not the sad and innocent way she usually acted, but the total lack of emotions from those final episodes.

Slowly the emotion drained from her, causing that same effect to happen to her face. Undoubtedly the girls in front of her knew exactly what was happening. They had seen the expression in those early days before she started using the watch, but had never placed the link. Now they suspected though, and when she raised her head to once again look at her friends, Dawn saw both of them take a step back.

"Holy," Jane started.

"Shit," Sara finished in surprise. "You're really..."

"Yeah, you're really her, aren't you? You're Noir now. Not the Slayer like we thought."

"The watch."

This time there was no hesitation, no attempt to tease her. The watch was immediately handed over by Jane, who after handing it over once again backed up against the wall. "You're not-" she started before cutting herself off. "No, if you're Kirika you wouldn't hurt your friends. At least not if you hadn't been hired to do so, right?"

"Yeah, and you haven't been hired," Sara added, although a sliver of doubt was present in her voice. "At least, I don't think you have."

"I haven't," Dawn answered in a calm voice.

"Good, that's good. Don't you think so Jane?"

Jane nodded in agreement, but remained silent.

Dawn meanwhile had stopped paying attention to her friends. The gap between them that Kirika had noticed was still present, but she didn't immediately know what to do about it. She was still trying to sort out herself, adding more people to the mix that she had to concern herself with was simply too much.

Instead she looked at her arm, the scar she'd received during her dream was present. And she still didn't know how or why that happened.

"It suddenly appeared," Jane interrupted her musings, causing Dawn to look up.

"Yeah, it was really weird," Sara added but then fell silent as Dawn focused on her.

Jane however seemed to have gathered her courage again, and tried to explain. "We'd just put you on the bed, and were wondering what to do when it simply appeared out of nowhere."

"No wound?" Dawn asked, still trying to sort out how she should act towards her friends but for now settling on speaking as little as possible.

"No, nothing. One moment your arm was perfectly alright, the next there was this scar. It happened right before our eyes!"

"Interesting," Dawn mused. How could this happen then? Well, it was obviously magic, but that part she'd already figured out. The problem though was how the magic had been directed at her. Her plans to stay with her father weren't something she'd been hiding, and everybody knew where she slept. But how could the magician know that she'd be sleeping here?

And for that matter, why had she been sleeping here? "Ah, Dawn?"

"Yes?" she answered without really paying attention.

"I understand that with being Noir and all we might not be really important to you anymore, but would you mind explaining things to us?"

"Things?"

"You know, things like how you became Noir. Were you chosen? Like Kirika in the series? And how come you're still living with your family? And why haven't you ever told us that you already knew more about the Soldats and stuff than the series showed?"

"What?" Dawn asked confused. They couldn't really believe Soldats existed in this world, could they? Not that she hadn't thought about it herself, but she knew how to look for the signs that showed their presence.

"Okay," Jane nodded. "I was just trying to make sure."

"Make sure what?"

"Well, that you're still you of course. That you weren't actually born as a sapling." Jane once more seemed to gather her courage and moved to sit down. Instead of joining her on the bed however, Jane pulled the chair Dawn had been seated on earlier and used that. "So, what really happened? Was it Halloween?"

Having her friends supporting her would help. She'd come to recognize that was the important thing about the Scoobies. To Buffy it wasn't as much that they helped her in the fights, but that she had their support. But Buffy was a hero, her friends had no trouble supporting her. She on the other hand was far from a hero, she was the one who'd be hunted by the heroes.

Dawn had made the decision that she'd do what needed to be done even before her trip to Los Angeles. The events that had taken place there had only cemented her belief. Despite the horror she'd inflicted on her targets. Briefly she closed her eyes once again in remembrance of that horrible time, before opening them again and looked Jane in the eyes with renewed purpose.

"Are you sure you want to know? This is not a game, things are at stake here that you might not want to sacrifice. There will be no going back."

She was nervous, that was obvious to Dawn, but despite that nervousness Jane was adamant. "I'm sure."

Nodding her head in acceptance, Dawn then looked at her other friend. The only other person to whom she could tell the truth. "And you? Do you really want to know what's going on with me? Because I promise you, both of you, that this is not a happy story. Once you know, you'll know. And I believe you won't betray my trust, but this knowledge won't make you sleep better."

"I'm sure," Sara whispered. She didn't look entirely sure, but Dawn knew that was mostly nerves. To her the fact that they'd agreed was as good as a written promise that they wouldn't betray her. Something she really hoped would still be the same after she'd finished telling them her tale. Because if it wasn't... a choice would have to be made—a choice she really didn't want to be forced to make.

"Alright then. Like you guessed, it all started on Halloween. You remember where we bought the outfits?" Both Sara and Jane indicated they did, and after taking a deep breath Dawn continued. "Right. Now, the man who owned that shop was actually a mage called Ethan Rayne, and he used a spell to turn anyone into the costume they'd bought from him."

….…

Dawn felt relieved. Yes, that was it, relieved.

She had finally talked to someone about what she had gone through, and had done so as honestly as possible. The reactions of Sara and Jane hadn't always been positive, in fact their reaction to the death of Ethan Rayne had made her tone down the events in Los Angeles. But they did say they'd help her in any way they could.

What they would do, and how, was uncertain. A problem for the future. The only thing she was certain of was that they'd have to stay out of the fighting. And not like Xander and Willow staying out of the fighting either. No, Sara and Jane wouldn't get to go on missions with her.

But they understood that already. That was after all the advantage of having the memories of a fictional assassin. Her friends knew exactly what she was capable of, and that there were only two people she could ever work with. Mireille and Chloe.

Taking a deep breath, Dawn stopped thinking about what she'd told her friends. Instead focusing on what they'd told her. Jane had indeed been attacked by a vampire, two even, but she had been saved. Saved by Dawn's personal hero. The boy she loved. Her future husband.

She wanted to face him. Thank him for what he'd done. He was in the high school library, with Buffy, Willow, Giles, and _her_. Dawn didn't mind the fact that people would be present while she thanked Xander, but she wasn't really ready yet to face Cordelia Chase.

It was strange how in the dreams she was having at the moment Cordelia was such an important figure as well. And in fact one of her best friends. No, climbing the steps leading to the entrance of the school, she admitted that wasn't true. Hadn't she claimed the girl as a friend earlier that day?

Pushing against the door Dawn was only half-surprised it opened. Now, this was strange, walking into a school on a holiday. It still went against all her beliefs, but if that's what she had to do to thank Xander, it was what she would do.

The hallway seemed to echo eerily though, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. This place was safe with Buffy so close. So, Dawn figured she might as well pay more attention to the problem that was Cordelia Chase.

Cordelia wasn't a nice person, she knew that and had accepted it when she'd first really spoken to the girl during Halloween. Cordelia was also very much like Mireille, both members of what could be seen as the elite, and both very outspoken. There were differences as well of course. With the way her father practically ruled Corsica, Mireille's life had always been mired in crime, while Cordelia was focused only on her own status.

Mireille was a cold-hearted killer, who despised messiness. Dawn smiled as she thought of Mireille's peculiar behavior where it came to killing. The young woman had always used a gun when they were together, no matter the circumstances. But then again, Dawn realized with a shock that sobered her, there was no reason to believe that Cordelia couldn't be a killer as well.

In fact if the dreams were in any way real, something Jane and Sara hadn't been able to agree on either, then Cordelia could very well have killed a number of people. And, judging by her behavior as a noblewoman, had probably been responsible for the death of even more. Could the real Cordelia be an Immortal as well? As they existed as a television series here, it was unlikely. Nevertheless, it was an intriguing thought and one Dawn knew she couldn't possibly test.

If she understood the spell correctly, an Immortal Cordelia would be exactly the same as a mortal one. Only dying would bring her out of that state, well that or a Quickening. And while it was possible to test the dying alternative, Dawn doubted anyone would appreciate her doing that. Even if Cordelia came back from the death.

However, all that thinking about an Immortal Cordelia had only served to take her attention away from the thing she needed to think about. Would she be able to handle being this close to the girl? The two of them hadn't really talked since Dawn had seen her kissing Xander. So, the question was, could she do this on her own? Or should she surrender control to Kirika?

No, that was out of the question. She wanted to thank Xander for helping her friend. The same friend who'd told her not all that long before that nothing could possibly come between their friendship. Which meant that she should do this herself. If Jane was willing to overlook brutal murders, then thanking Xander personally for his actions was the least Dawn could do.

Raising her hands until the rested against the heavy wooden doors was the hardest part, and once she'd done that the rest came easily. From experience she knew that there wasn't even any need to actively push against the doors. Simply walking into them with her hands extended was enough. But that would diminish her entrance.

With a smile she pushed hard, causing the double doors to swing open and draw everybody's attention. A quick look around was all she needed to place everyone, telling her she'd worried about nothing. Cordelia wasn't even here.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Dawn didn't answer her sister though, she had found who she was looking for had started walking to him even before Buffy had finished saying her name. Alexander "Xander" LaVelle Harris. Such an apt name, Alexander. Protector of mankind. The same name as one of the greatest tactical geniuses ever born. A man who'd managed to conquer most of the known world.

But in Dawn's, admittedly biased, opinion Alexander the Great was only a shadow of the boy before her. The Macedonian king had done everything with an army, while Xander had been a hero all on his own.

"Dawnie?" the boy asked when she was standing before him. "What is it?"

Always willing to help as well. He was so sweet, and Dawn could feel her grin getting even bigger while she took the last step that separated them and swung her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He was uncomfortable, she could feel and understand it while she rested her head on his chest. Maybe he wouldn't have been if the two of them had been alone, but a hero should have his public recognition. "Dawn? What are you thanking me for?"

Burrowing her head deeper into his chest, or at least trying to, she simply continued whispering her thanks, while taking advantage of the situation to inhale the scent of him. She wanted to be able to recognize the real Xander smell whenever she encountered it. And as she didn't have any of his shirts yet to sleep in, she would have to learn it like this.

After a long and pleasurable minute though, she finally let go and took a step backwards before facing him. "You saved her."

"What?" Xander asked, obviously not immediately understanding what she meant.

"Jane, you saved Jane while I was in Los Angeles. She only told me today."

Xander's eyes went wide in surprise as he finally understood what she was talking about. "You know her?"

"Of course she knows Jane," Buffy interrupted, "the girl is one of Dawn's best friends. But what is this about saving her?"

"Ah, well you see, ah," Xander started, causing Dawn to interrupt.

"What he's trying to say is that he saved Jane from two vampires. He staked them both, saving her life," she whispered while never taking her eyes of the boy who'd risked his life for her friend.

"You fought vampires? Alone? When was this?" Buffy demanded.

It was strange, Dawn reflected. Without the added knowledge of human nature that came from the Kirikas, she might not have recognized her sister's true intentions here. Buffy wasn't angry that Xander had done this, she was scared that he might have gotten hurt. Scared that she might have failed in her duty to protect him.

She stopped paying attention to Xander's attempts to explain what had happened while she thought about this side of Buffy. Until now she had mostly figured that Buffy's reasons for keeping her friends out of the fight were the same one she had for Sara and Jane. Self-preservation.

But now it once again showed why her sister was a hero, while she was only an assassin. The best perhaps, at least potentially, but still far from being the perfect harbinger of good that Buffy was. Maybe one day she could be that ray of light Kirika had promised herself to be after walking out of the Manor. But while she might not be pure evil right now, she wasn't much better than a dark gray either.

In a daze she ignored everyone and started on her way home. Undoubtedly they'd have questions later on, but right now she couldn't be near them. It was irrational of her to believe they might actually see through her front and see what she really was, but Buffy was a true superhero. Didn't superheroes always find the bad guy? Even when it was someone they cared about? And didn't they always defeat this bad guy?

The streets were no longer as empty as they had been that morning, but Dawn didn't even notice. She wanted to go home and crawl into her bed. Maybe she'd go back to that other world again if she went to sleep. It might not be perfect, but at least she wasn't as bad as in the real world. She was helping someone there. Without any thoughts about her own safety. Like heroes did. Like Buffy did.

During the walk home she'd somehow switched off her brain, because when she stood before the door Dawn had no idea how she'd gotten there. But it didn't matter either. Once again she pushed open a door, and walked inside.

"Dawn?" her mother asked in an eerily similar tone as Buffy had. "Are you alright?"

"Tired," she answered, hoping that would be a good enough excuse to stop her from having to answer irritating questions.

"You look it. But that's to be expected after getting up so early. You should have stayed in bed longer. What's done is done though, and there's nothing we can do about it. Dinner will be ready in about an hour, why don't you go take a nap until then? Sleep a bit, maybe you'll be more awake after dinner."

"'kay," Dawn mumbled, already on her way to the stairs.

"Oh, before I forget it. A man came by to bring you a letter. It's on your desk in case you feel up to reading it. And no," her mother said, "I haven't looked at it. Although I am curious as to why anyone would bring you a letter on New Year's day."

So was Dawn actually, and after thanking her mother she hurried up the stairs. Quickly she walked into her room, noticed the envelope and stopped. A cursory check revealed nothing special about it. Obviously it wasn't a bomb, which she admitted was rather paranoid thinking anyway. Could it be from a boy at school, declaring his love for her as a New Year's resolution? It didn't make a lot of sense to her, but that was the only thing she could think off.

Shrugging, she took the letter opener from her desk and ripped open the bottom of the envelope, exposing the contents. For several seconds she waited while holding her breath. This wasn't a perfectly safe way to open a letter, but holding the opening away from her would send any poisonous contents away from her. And it was the best compromise between being careful and living a normal life.

It was bad enough that she was getting paranoid, she really didn't want to go through life fearing everything. Shaking her head to order her thoughts again, she expelled her breath and dropped the contents of the envelope onto her desk.

Time stopped.

No, it wasn't time that stopped. It was only her, the voices in her head cried.

But she didn't care.

It was minutes before she was able to move. And when she did it was with trembling hands that she took hold of the photos. Photos of Jane and Sara. Photos with targets drawn on them. Targets drawn on her friends.

The accompanying letter was there as well. And she took it, not bothering to read the text, instead only looking for the sender.

The Order of Teraka.

No. Please no. Not Jane and Sara.

* * *

Bob-from-Accounting, Allen Pitt, Darklight, and Destiny's Dragon: Thank you for your reviews. Now let's answer some of them, in no particular order.

As you've read by now, no Boyscout in this story.

Why is Dawn more attached to this universe? There are reasons for this, and they will be mentioned later. Things like the Quickening and her increased mental instability (Dawn not being in control) play a part though.

The Wish is pretty strange in itself, and the plans that I've got for it are even worse. Trust me on this. I don't plan on using anything as silly as Cordelia getting up after being drained, but at the moment there is a gap of somewhere between 6 and 10 stories between what has been posted and what I have planned. A time in which a lot can, and WILL change. All of which will have an effect on that story.

Dawn in the Noir universe... Now that is something I've thought about quite often, but always came back to the fact that without making Dawn far better than Kirika and Mireille she would end up dead after the first three pages. I would really love to write a story set there, but, aside from the dead Dawn, it has so many aspects that appear incompatible that I wouldn't know where to start.

Okay, general announcement here. Like with my plans for the Wish, I don't go into any detail of what has happened with people that aren't relevant to this story. I really like seeing people speculate about what might have happened, or could happen, to certain people, but I won't go into them in any detail. This is because in both universes Dawn is the same person (with some differences where it concerns her mental health). One storyline is farther ahead in time than the other and explaining certain events would spoil future stories. That said, I do enjoy seeing speculations as they might give me ideas so don't take this as me saying you can't. Oh, and Angel did turn into Angelus in the Immortal Cordy timeline. The situation was handled the way it should.

Amanda is simply a wonderful character, and the only one of the core Highlander characters who I believe would be capable of handling Cordelia. Methos isn't the type to put up with her, and while he is a patient man MacLeod is not THAT patient. Oh, and a flashback to Cordy's training will come in the next chapter. After all, what's a Highlander story without a flashback?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The Order was threatening her friends.

Dawn didn't like that.

In fact, she loathed it. How dare they? What gave them the bloody courage to threaten her friends? HER friends! Did they really expect they'd get away with that? Her eyes narrowed as her anger mounted, until the emotion suddenly disappeared. Her anger went away and all that remained was the cold emotionless state of the true Noir.

Had she allowed Kirika to take over? No, Dawn realized that she was still the one in control. Good. That meant she was once again in a similar state as she'd been after the last time she'd taken care of one of these amateurs. And they would pay for threatening her friends. But first she had to see what it was they'd written.

Her eyes moved rapidly over the letter until she'd read the entire thing, after which she sat down on her bed with a thoughtful expression adorning her face. That was strange. Moving once more to the top she went over it again, even going so far as to sound out the greeting. "Dear miss Summers."

_After several altercations with you, it has been decided that it might not be in our best interest to continue a fight with you. During this time you have shown an impressive ability where it comes to our trade, and it is for that reason we have decided to contact you._

_Despite the fact that you have directly interfered with one of our missions, causing the death of several of our members, we do not wish you any ill. Your actions in Sunnydale were understandable considering our target was to be your sister. We recently made the error to compound our mistake by targeting you specifically in the city of Los Angeles._

_For this we wish to offer our apologies. We have also decided that you may keep the money you have taken from us during the events in that city. Undoubtedly you'll find a good purpose for it._

_Which brings us to the real reason for this letter. The information we have received and deducted about you, shows that you are a young woman of remarkable capabilities. And as you have already shown great aptitude in our chosen profession, we would like to offer you the chance to hone your skills._

_It is our belief that the chance for you to join our Order would be a great step forwards in your education. While we have recognized your already remarkable capabilities, we also recognize that your potential is far greater. A potential that might one day even exceed that of our greatest members._

_Reaching a potential like that is a long and difficult task however, and that is why we believe you want to accept our offer. We are the only ones on this planet who can help you reach your true destiny, for that is what we believe it to be._

_A member of our Order will contact you within a day to discuss our proposition in more detail._

_Highest Regards,_

_Yandi Borsemi_

_Order of Teraka_

_P.S. While we do not truly believe you would attack our messenger, we urge you to examine the enclosed photographs. While we might be able to forgive your previous attacks, as they were indeed instigated by us, we do not offer the same leniency where it concerns our messenger._

This was ridiculous. All thoughts of sleep were forgotten as Dawn started pacing around her room. What was their plan? What did they want to do? To her it was obvious that accepting the Order's offer would result in her death. They might be sincere about their offer, but that didn't mean anything.

Alright. This was bad, and she really needed some help on this. Taking her phone she dialed Jane's number. She let the phone ring, but after waiting for over a minute there was no answer. Putting the phone back on its hook, Dawn wondered where her friend could be, before she suddenly realized and felt like hitting her head against the wall.

Duh! Jane and her parents had gone to eat at Sara's place. Their annual New Year dinner thing. Taking up the phone again, she dialed Sara's number. She really needed to talk to them, but Dawn also understood that would probably have to wait until later.

After they had finished eating it might be possible, but not right now. Their parents would never allow that, and even tonight might be a bit difficult to convince everyone of. "Flynn residence, beauty of the house speaking."

"Sara? It's me."

The sober tone Dawn spoke in served its purpose and Sara immediately became serious. "Dawn? Is something wrong?"

"We need to talk, the three of us. Very soon."

It was quiet for a moment, and when Sara finally did answer, her words weren't directed at Dawn. "No mom, I'll be right there. It's Dawn, I won't be long."

"Sara?"

"Mom wants me back at the table. I can't really speak right now, especially about things like this."

"Trust me, I didn't want to talk over the phone anyway. I'm not exactly sure I can trust it right now."

"Trust it? You mean it might be tapped?" Some more sounds came from the other side, including what sounded like a slightly agitated mother. "Yes mom, I'm coming!"

"Can we discuss this later tonight? It's really important."

"I'd love to, but no. There's no way Jane and I could get away from the traditionalists."

"Damn. Alright, how about tomorrow morning then? As early as possible."

"Early? It's a holiday tomorrow, I want to sleep in."

"Sara..." Dawn grumbled, recognizing her friend was merely playing.

"Oh alright, sheesh. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow, is eight o'clock alright?" It wasn't all that early, but if she wanted her friends to be at least capable of understanding what she was saying...

"Sure, let's do it at Jane's though. And I really gotta go now before mom gets even more pissed with me. See ya." And with those words Sara hang up, leaving Dawn to listen to the dial tone. Which wasn't exactly an interesting sound, and caused her to hang up as well.

Once again she took up the letter and studied every word, every infliction. It seemed so casually written, as if it was merely an afterthought. "Why?" she murmured into the silence of her room. Why would they suddenly approach her like this?

It didn't make any sense to her. She had to admit she hadn't thought all the consequences through when she'd suddenly been faced with a Terakan in Los Angeles, but then again, there hadn't really been time for that. They had her at a disadvantage, surely they must know that?

She was after all only barely trained, probably more than half crazy, and didn't have any current information about her enemies. If they really wanted to destroy her, they could do so easily. Even something as simple as a sniper near her school would undoubtedly be enough, and there wouldn't be much she could do to stop it from happening.

The only problem would be if they missed. Dawn didn't doubt that they'd recognize her reaction if they failed. But then again, hadn't they neutralized her rather well right now? By taking her friends as a hostage they ensured she wouldn't take any action against the Order. And that was not something she was happy about.

What could she do though? With a sigh she decided to postpone that question until later. It was time to put her thoughts in order again. Write down everything that had happened today. And boy, was that going to be a lot to write.

Taking out her real journal, she hesitated for a moment. The fake one could wait until later, couldn't it? No, it couldn't, Dawn realized as she exchanged one for the other. There was always the chance that Buffy would read it to see what she'd written down about Xander's heroics. Especially since it was obviously something she'd write about. Alright then, how should she put this?

Ah yes. "Dear diary, you have no idea what happened today," she said aloud while penciling those same words down and started on the entry. What she was going to write down was basically the truth, although she would leave a couple of things out. Like the violent way she'd had to take control of her body back, the strange dream, and the fact that her friends now knew she was an assassin.

Still, writing down her experiences like this was a lot of work. After all, she couldn't allow her diary to look like it had been massacred by anyone. Describing the events as Jane told her was difficult. There were too many conflicting emotions: fear of losing her friend, pride in Xander's actions, and more. Still, one thing that she didn't forget while writing it down was to mention Jane's name for Xander as often as she could. Oh, if only the boy truly was hers.

"Okay, tell me what happened," Buffy said as she suddenly stormed into Dawn's room, causing her to let out a shriek of surprise.

"Wha?" she mumbled while quickly putting something on top of the pictures and letter from the Order. Good thing she'd been in little girl mode, or she might have accidentally attacked Buffy. Where did her sister get the idea that walking into someone's room unannounced was a good thing?

"The thing with Jane and Xander. He told me some kind of story about how he couldn't let anything happen to a little girl, but I want to know what really happened."

"But that's what really happened!" Dawn answered.

"Really? Here, show me that," Buffy demanded while taking Dawn's diary.

"But-" she half-heartedly protested, while secretly being glad she'd actually had the foresight to write that entry.

"Hmm," Buffy mumbled as she searched through the text. "Ah, here it is. My Xander?" she suddenly exclaimed before turning to look at Dawn with horrified eyes.

"What?" Dawn screamed while getting up from her desk and reaching out to take back her diary.

Unfortunately, aside from being a Slayer her sister was also larger than she was. Which meant she could hold Dawn off with one hand while still paging through the diary. "Don't you think that's a bit early? Oh, just wait until I tell this to Willow. Oh, wait. I can't tell it to Willow, she'd become depressed. Still, that doesn't mean I can't tease Xander about it."

"No, you can't do that! I'll tell mom you read my diary. You'll be grounded for weeks!"

"No I won't. I'll just tell her you let it slip and forgot about telling me. With the way you act there's no need for me to read it in a diary."

"Mom!" Dawn screamed, before beaming a smile at her sister. If Buffy really wanted to test that assumption she'd better have a good reason.

"She won't hear you," Buffy said while returning the smile.

"Really? And why would I believe you when you say that? MOM! Buffy's reading my diary!" No reaction came. For a moment she debated stepping out of her room to find her mother, but the fear of what else Buffy might find stopped her from doing that.

Her sister only shook her head, while turning a couple more pages in the diary. "Slayer hearing. She went outside for a moment."

"She's cooking!"

"Well, she doesn't have stay in the kitchen the entire time for that."

"This isn't fair," Dawn seethed. This was bad, even a fake diary could obviously contain blackmail material. Why had she written that down? Wouldn't that sort of thing be better suited for her real diary? Well, that's where the whole hindsight thing came from, wasn't it?

Making another grab for the diary, she was once again faced with Buffy's reflexes. That Slayer stuff really was impressive, wasn't it? Unless one of the other personalities took over, Dawn doubted she'd be able to beat her sister in a fight right now. Thoughts of how she could take Buffy out from a distance came unbidden, and she shook her head to dispel that.

Buffy notice Dawn's sudden behavior and hummed a bit as she continued reading, obviously not even bothered by the fact that she had to hold off Dawn while doing so. Hah! Far from it even, as she turned back a couple of pages to read the entries there as well. "Wow," she suddenly said while giving Dawn a strange look.

Oh god no. She hadn't just read that entry had she? "Buffy?" Dawn tried.

"This is just wow. And you really dreamed this? Wow." Buffy shook her head while taking in the whole text, causing Dawn's head to grow an even darker red. "I didn't even know this was humanly possible. How do you plan to do this with him? I know it describes your wedding night, but still... Wow."

"It's just a dream okay? And can you give me back my diary now, haven't you embarrassed me enough? Do you need even more blackmail material?"

"Yeah, I think you're right actually. I think I could have lived without the image of you and Xander doing that. Although... could you explain to me how you did that part with the-"

"Buffy!"

"Alright, alright," Buffy said with a teasing grin on her face while backing out of the room. "I can see you don't want to talk about it. So I'll just have to do so with the other participant after I've apologized to him tomorrow."

"Apologized?" Dawn asked, for once not focusing on the impending humiliation.

"Yeah," her sister nodded. "He was right, I was wrong. I'm not really happy he put himself in danger but like you wrote, he wouldn't be Xander if he didn't try to help people."

"Yeah," Dawn sighed, "isn't he the greatest?"

"Sure, ehm Dawn?"

"What?"

"You do know that he and-"

"Yeah," she interrupted. "I know."

"Oh, okay," Buffy said while moving to turn around. "Oh, and I'm sorry for reading your diary too. I shouldn't have done that, but I... you know..."

"Didn't think?"

"Well, that's a bit harsh."

"Were too angry to think it through?"

"Maybe a bit. But it wasn't as bad as you think either."

Dawn only let out a sigh. Buffy would never change and, despite the fact that she could sometimes really be a pain in the but, she still loved her sister. "Alright, let's get downstairs okay? I'm getting hungry, and maybe we can bug mom to hurry up with dinner."

x.x.x

"Why did we have to take such an early flight?" Methos whined in his most child-like voice.

Amanda didn't answer immediately, instead walking over to the car rental agency. "Because it was the first one."

"We could have just come by car you know."

"Really? Whose car would we use for that?"

"MacLeod's?" he answered. Who cared what car? He hated how he didn't have any direct access to his sword on a flight. Even posing as a courier the sword had to be packaged. Not that he believed anybody would challenge him on a flight, but he still didn't like it.

"Oh come on, old man," Richie spoke up. "It's not that bad is it? We're here now, and we can go and meet the beautiful ladies of Southern California."

"And one in particular, eh?"

"Yes," the young Immortal answered before focusing on Amanda. "You know Amanda, I'm still not sure whether to be angry at you for hiding her so long, or happy that you actually know someone as beautiful as you."

Amanda smiled at that, while Methos only rolled his eyes at the exaggerated flattery. "Flattery gets you everywhere darling, but you might want to save it for Callie. You'll need it."

Why had he come again? Methos wondered, as he watched Amanda ask for the car she'd ordered. Was it to watch Richie go down in flames while trying to seduce a useless piece of fluff? Or was it to help Amanda protect her student?

Nah, he knew why he had come. Despite the way he sometimes acted towards these two, he was still rather fond of them and would miss them if something happened to them. Well, that and the fact that MacLeod would string him up if he allowed any harm to come to either his lover or former student.

Which was always a good reason. Still, while he usually didn't mind getting up early. Usually? Okay, sometimes was more accurate. Alright. Rarely. The point still stood. He liked it even less if it was followed by the usual nonsense one had to endure when traveling by plane.

"Thank you," Amanda said while accepting the key from the man behind the desk. Turning around she then indicated for the two of them to follow her. They didn't have to walk very long, but when Methos saw the car, he was actually disappointed. It was just a normal car, nothing flashy about it. No, he perked up, this was actually better than a flashy car. It would allow them to blend in better.

Richie however didn't think in those terms. "This is it? Couldn't you have hired a Porsche or something? I'd hoped to make an impression while getting out of the car."

"Richie," Amanda answered while heaving a sigh, "there's no way that you could impress her with a car. Cars are status symbols, and have to be bought in Callie's opinion. And you don't have the money required for buying a suitable car."

"She's rich then?" Richie asked excitedly.

"Yes. She almost always has been, and if it's even the least bit up to her, she always will be."

"She always acts as a rich person? Doesn't that get her noticed?" Methos wanted to know.

"That probably depends on how you define it. And she lives all over the world, so there never was much chance of anyone recognizing her from a previous life. Of course, I don't know how she plans to deal with that now that the world is getting so small and everything is documented."

"Maybe she'll have to live like a vagrant for a while then," Methos muttered. "It's not like it would do her any harm."

Amanda snorted while she unlocked the car. "Right. You obviously haven't met her. Status is far too important to her."

He debated taking the front seat for a moment, but Richie was too fast and Methos only shrugged before getting into the back. It didn't really matter to him anyway, and this way he might be able to get some sleep.

"Is she really that concerned with status?" Richie wanted to know once all three of them were in the car.

"Yes, it sounds a bit crazy perhaps, but it's the truth. Let me put it like this," Amanda tried to explain. "I told you about the shared Quickening right?"

"Yeah, the one Joe got so angry about because he didn't know about it."

"Exactly. Now, after that she'd accepted what she was and do you know what the first thing was that she wanted to do?"

The boy shrugged, obviously not even bothering to guess at what ridiculous thing a woman like that could come up with. So Amanda answered for him while turning the first corner. "She wanted to visit London, where she knew everybody!"

"Didn't you explain that she shouldn't see people she knew?"

"Of course I did. But that didn't help a bit, she wasn't very happy when I forbade it either. I had a hell of a time calming her down."

"You should have killed her," Methos interrupted from the back seat. It was the most logical thing to do after all. A hysteric Immortal? Stick a sword through their chest and they'll calm down, works every time.

"She had just saved my life, I had no intention of doing that."

"In that case you've got nobody to blame but yourself."

"Geez Adam, are you always this nice to a potential student?" Richie wanted to know.

"They need to learn to survive, don't they? If they stop complaining about every tiny little thing it goes a lot faster."

"Maybe, anyway I had a better solution," Amanda continued. "We got cleaned up a bit in a small lake nearby and I loaned her some of my clothes. That way she looked at least representable, and to prevent her from complaining even more, we went south."

"What? To London?" Methos asked indignantly. "You didn't really accept her ridiculous demand, did you?"

"Of course not. We went to Paris."

"To Paris. You went to Paris because your new student wanted pretty nails?" He couldn't believe it. Amanda wasn't that stupid, was she?

"Well, that's what I told her. Of course, once we arrived there were other plans. Do you have any idea of the valuable knowledge she possessed? It was simply incredible. I mean, I know quite a bit about who was who at that time, but she was in a completely different league.

"We started to work the court, and that's where you noticed how good she really was. The girl could have made a killing if she'd continued with it. Not that she didn't do good anyway, but it was such a waste of potential," Amanda sighed.

Richie didn't seem to understand, not that Methos really did but unlike the younger Immortal, he had not intention of admitting that. "What was so special about her then?"

"She remembered everything. Which was pretty strange considering the amount of trouble she had even learning how to properly hold a sword. But when it came to people, there wasn't anything she didn't remember. Whenever I introduced her to somebody, I only had to leave her with him for half an hour before she could tell me everything about them.

"Once I'd come back to pick her up she knew the layout of his estate, how much he was worth, where the most valuable things were, and how everything was guarded. Hah! Callie would even know the name of the captain of the man's guard. She could play people like nobody else I've ever seen."

"I thought you said she wasn't a people person," Richie asked. A question that Methos would like an answer to as well.

"I know. It's one of those weird things. If she's being her normal self and only in the presence of those she feels are beneath her, which means most people, she's a prime bitch. But back there she was among her equals, and she definitely knew how to talk to them," Amanda grinned.

Well, if she was so happy about that she must have really made a lot of money during that time. "I take it things went well then?"

"Oh yes," Amanda said before apparently deciding to tell a story about that time. "Things went so incredibly good, it's not even funny."

She then started her tale, and like most Immortals she had become good enough at telling it that it almost seemed like he was there.

….…

Amanda looked at her new student, not even bothering to hide the despair she felt at the shabby way she handled her sword. "This won't do Callie. It's been over a year now and you haven't improved at all. You managed to kill Svenson, didn't you? And the people who killed you."

"That was different," Callidora explained, "My own wounds did not concern me at that time. All I wanted to do was kill them."

"And that is no longer the case," Amanda confirmed.

"No, you have told me many times that I should be careful about taking wounds. That it will slow me down enough to offer my opponent a chance to kill me. However, hiring a guard would solve all those problems. Why can I not do that?"

She always came back to things like this: one time it was carrying a crossbow to kill her opponents from a distance, the next it would be a guard. The only thing she hadn't yet wondered about was how she could get her hands on a decent army. At least, Amanda hoped Callidora hadn't thought of that yet. "The rules, Callie. The rules."

"The rules are for idiots!" the young woman bit out. "I do not care about them, my life is far more important!"

"And if you want to continue living you better make sure that you know how to handle a sword!" Amanda shouted back.

"I do not want that!" Callidora screeched, and with a powerful swing she threw the wooden practice sword away from her. "I am not good at this, and I never will be. We should accept that as a fact, and arrange for a better protection."

"You do not have a choice in this matter. Immortals will come to kill you, and if they know that you do not play by the rules they will not bother with them either."

"And how could they find out if whether that is the case? You do not believe that I would leave any witnesses, do you?"

Now that she put it like that, no. One constant where it came to Callidora was that she didn't leave things to chance. She was always meticulous, practical, and most of all ruthless. "That will not work forever. Matters like these have a way being found out"

"But until that time I will be alive. And if they find out I can go into hiding, or move to another country."

"They will know your name," Amanda explained once again.

"They will not," Callidora countered. "Why would I give my real name to people who try to kill me? I do not care about what they do, nor about who they are. A bunch of sword-wielding fools has no need to know my name."

"You are not thinking this through Callie-"

"NO! You are not doing that. You have lived for a very long time. You are centuries old, and closer to a thousand than to five hundred. You must know that members of our kind do not always give their true name. If they did, none of the very old would still be alive."

"What makes you think that they are?" Amanda tried to counter.

Callidora raised on of her perfect eyebrows before answering. "You have told me that yourself. Many times have you spoken about your teacher who is so much older than you are. Aside from that, you have told me about these myths who are millennia old and similar stories. No, you always tell me that I have the potential to live forever, but at the same time you want me to learn how to shorten that life."

"I try to extend it, not shorten it!"

"It does not seem that way to me. I have no wish to continue learning how to use a sword."

Well, there were other things she could teach her student right now. So Amanda didn't see any need to continue with that right now. "As you wish."

"Really?" Callidora asked surprised.

"Yes, we will take a break for now. There is a party tonight that we should prepare for anyway."

"Not again. You know I am not comfortable with resorting to the feats of a petty thief."

"There is nothing petty about me. I am the best."

Callidora sighed. "And I do not care. I have no wish to use a sword, nor do I want to have to fight for my life, and I certainly do not want to be a common thief."

"But tonight you will be."

The young woman raised her eyes to peer into hers, showing Amanda for the first time in months that there was a core of steel underneath them. A core that only needed to be awakened. "That sounds like a threat."

"If that is how you want to see it," Amanda answered.

A strange mixture of emotions crossed Callidora's face, but in the end she lowered her eyes. Clearly not yet ready to confront Amanda. "As you wish. I will help you again, because you did try to help me and explained who I am. But after tonight, I will be leaving."

Hearing that, Amanda's eyes widened in surprise and she tried desperately to come up with a reason for Callidora to stay that her student would accept. But nothing came up that she hadn't already mentioned earlier. "No! You should not do that."

"I must. I can not live like this any longer. You have already told me that I can not have children, that a marriage would be unsuccessful, and that I can not stay any place for long. If that is the case, I want to travel. Visit the colonies."

"You will. That is what I have been telling you," Amanda tried. "But you aren't ready to do so."

The beautiful woman stayed aloof though, and the conversation soon petered out. Knowing that trying to convince her student would be useless, Amanda did her best to accept it and went to ready herself for that night.

….…

"I thought you were going to tell about how she was so useful during those missions, which I interpreted as a funny story. All you've done so far is shown how she threw a hissy fit, proving me right about how the noblewomen during that time were," Methos interrupted the story.

"Hey!" came from Richie. "I was enjoying the story, why don't you keep quiet and let Amanda continue?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Methos countered. "You only enjoy the story because you keep hoping she explains the changing part in detail, telling you what this Callidora looks like underneath her clothes."

"I do not."

"Yes you do."

"Do not."

"Yes-"

"Oh shut up you two," Amanda interrupted. "You act like a couple of children. And I was about to come to the part you were waiting for Adam."

"You were? And this is actually going to be interesting?"

"Yes it is."

"Oh, alright then, carry on." A look in the mirror showed him that Amanda was staring heatedly at him, but instead of apologizing for his words he only made himself more comfortable.

"Alright then. Now, we changed into the clothes that would be needed for the mission, and after Callie had spent her usual three hours making her face look perfect we were finally ready to go."

….…

"Tonight? You want to take everything tonight? While everybody knows that we are there? That does not seem wise to me." Callidora hissed while they were seated in the stuffy coach that would bring them to the estate.

"What does it matter to you? You will leave after tonight."

"That is exactly why it matters to me. They will think I committed the crime. That would ruin my good standing."

"I have two things to say about that. The first is that you actually will be involved in this crime, and secondly why does it matter if your reputation is besmirched? You will have to take another name in any case."

Callidora looked at her as if she saw water burning. "What else is there besides having an impeccable reputation?"

"Your life for one."

"Aside from that!"

"Why? That is the most important thing, is it not?"

"Yes, but that is not the point," her student sighed. "Are all Immortals like this?"

"What do you mean? Procurers of rare items?"

"No, I am not talking about the stealing. I know that there are only few who do that. What I alluded to is the question if all Immortals are this afraid to die?"

That actually got Amanda thinking, her student was right about the fact that Immortals probably thought more about death more than most mortals did. But that was probably because there was no natural end to their life. And besides, she wasn't nearly as focused on staying alive as she showed Callidora, that was mostly a show for her student's benefit.

"I do not know."

Callidora only looked at her with those perfectly accented eyes, and remained quiet. A state they remained in until they arrived at the party.

Once the coach drew to a halt in front of the mansion, they could finally get out of the vehicle and Amanda made use of the opportunity to stretch her sore muscles a bit. She hated having to sit in those cramped little things. Of course, the super noble woman showed no sign of any discomfort, and that was something she envied her student for.

No matter what happened, Callidora was always acting exactly the right way. Doing things perfectly that had taken Amanda years to perfect, and some of which even now occasionally went wrong. Not that she was jealous. Oh no, absolutely not. Well alright, maybe a little, but even without being raised like Callidora, she was able to do handle herself in these situations.

"Shall we?" she asked Callidora and waited for the acknowledging nod before starting for the entrance herself.

Usually they brought male companions along with them, but because they were planning on taking the jewelry tonight, they couldn't do that. Which might actually be the reason why her student didn't like it. When it came to men, she obviously didn't care what her reputation was. Callidora always toyed with them, leaving them wanting her, until at the end of the night she sent them home with their tail between their legs.

In the entire year since they'd been student and teacher, never once had she seen Callidora actually take anyone to her bed. It might be because it went against the sensibilities of a noblewoman, but Amanda suspected there was more to it. Details about how she had died were still sketchy, but she knew it happened during a raid.

Or rather, after a raid. And she had seen the results of something like that often enough to understand what happened to the women. Still, the woman was remarkably silent about what had happened to her, and after several failed attempts to get Callidora to open up about it Amanda had given up.

But that wasn't relevant to the current situation anyway. Passing through the door, they walked to the entrance of the ballroom, where they were loudly announced under the guise of cousins. And as they were both looking quite good, their entrance didn't suffer from any lack of attention.

Smiling at the gathered crowd, Callidora whispered to her. "Is this not great? Is this not so much better than picking pockets in the streets?"

"The great part about this is that we can get close to our targets. For the rest, I don't really care about these stuffy people."

"Hah! I knew it," Methos once again interrupted. "You thought they were stuffy too, despite what you said yesterday."

"Can't you keep quiet during a story?" Richie asked, turning partly around to glare at him. As if the young pup was allowed to do that.

"Only when it's interesting. And she doesn't contradict herself like she did now. Didn't you say that I shouldn't think of them as stuffy yesterday?"

"No, what I said was that the noblewomen weren't as bad as you believed. That's all. And these people were stuffy. Callie might be able to spend hours with someone that dreadfully boring, but I couldn't. The subjects they talked about were horrible."

"Well, that's what women always do," Methos told her smugly. This trip was getting better and better.

But Amanda wasn't out of the game. "Who said I was talking about the women?"

….…

Making her way through the crowd, Amanda did her best to spy out anyone who could pose a danger to her plan. This was after all what she'd been working for these pasts nine months. With Callidora at her side it had become far easier to infiltrate these people, and so far she hadn't made any mistakes that might give away her intention.

She had actually been so nice as to not steal anything from the other people here. Or even from the palace, another place the two of them had been invited a couple of times. Those visits were actually the ones that had unnerved her the most. She knew that it was unlikely that anyone who knew Callie in her previous life would actually show up during their brief visits, but there was always a chance.

Not that it had bothered her student. Despite her many other weaknesses, a lack of confidence was not something she suffered from. At least not when it came to socializing. She had remained calm during the long rides there, and during the parties themselves she didn't act in any way different. And she did know the importance of not being recognized by anyone who knew her before.

The jewelry. She had to think about the jewelry, because that's what she was here for. The plan had already been worked out, Callidora had an important role to play in that part, but it wasn't something the woman wouldn't be capable of. All she had to do was keep everybody busy, and from the crowd that had already gathered around her, that didn't seem the least bit of a problem.

Seeing her chance, Amanda opened the door to an empty hallway, and with a wildly beating heart she then slipped through it. As she closed it behind her, she spent a couple of minutes to see if anyone came after her. It was a lot easier to come up with an excuse while she was still near the door than when she was going through the jewelry.

But nobody came after her, the distraction obviously worked. Not that this was the hard part; she could have managed to get this far without Callidora.

Focus. Walking on in the hallway, she looked for where she needed to go. It was about two months since the count had given the two of them a tour of the house, once again thanks to her student, but she still knew exactly where everything was.

Encountering a hallway that led to her left, she nodded in recognition. Yes, this was the one. Now she needed to look for the stairway used by the servants. Following the path she knew would lead her to the master bedroom, Amanda came closer and closer to her goal until she could almost taste the gold that she was about to steal.

Perfect. There it was, the room that would set her up good for the next couple of years. Well, no doubt her student would demand some of the spoils, but that was of a later concern. Now she just had to take everything, put it in the bag she was carrying underneath her fluffy dress, and get the hell out of here. Opening the door slightly, she confirmed the room was dark, and stepped through.

"Finally," Amanda whispered in exultation as the dim light showed her the cabinet in which the jewelry was kept.

Walking over she tried to open the drawers, and, once she'd confirmed they were indeed locked, she took out her lock picks to remedy that. With centuries of experience in this field of work, it didn't take long until she heard the familiar click that indicated her success. Sliding it open she held her breath in anticipation of the beautiful sight that would greet her.

"I am impressed with your control."

With her heart suddenly beating heavily in her throat, Amanda spun around until she could see the speaker. A sight that almost made her sick, the captain of the guard was standing there. While he didn't have his sword drawn, the men with him were pointing their various weapons at her, leaving her without a decent chance to get away.

"Oh, I am sorry. I got lost."

"There is no point in lying. I recognized you the first time that you stepped through the door of this house. Unfortunately the count would not believe me until I had some proof, which is why you actually got this far."

"Really? You recognized little old me? Have we met before?" Amanda asked while showing her most disarming smile and fluttering her eyes at him. She had to get out of here, and fast. This situation was going down the drain fast.

"I doubt you remember me. I was only one of the many guards at that time." Seeing that she still didn't have a clue, he tried to explain a bit more. "Milan? Do you remember me from there?"

Not really no, although she had spent some time there about a decade before. "I am terribly sorry, I think you've got me confused with somebody else."

"I thought that to be the case when I started paying attention to the woman you claim is your niece. She actually feels at home among the nobles; where did you find her?" the captain asked while indicating she should start walking.

Reluctantly Amanda did as he ordered, but wouldn't stop trying to convince the man of her innocence. "She is my cousin, naturally. Is it really necessary to act as if I am a common criminal?"

"My apologies dear lady. I realize that you are no common thief. I am really sorry for mistaking you for one. Shall we go speak to the count anyway? Then you will have the chance to explain to him how you are no ordinary thief, but instead one that targets nobles like him."

Amanda was starting to get angry at the man's tone, but she also realized there wasn't anything she could do about it. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Following a different route from the one through which she'd found her way to the room, they eventually ended up at the ballroom again, where everybody spotted their entrance.

"What is the meaning of this?" the count demanded as he walked over to them.

"I come with your proof, sir. We discovered this woman while she was trying to rob you."

"She probably only took a wrong turn. There's no need to let something like that ruin a good party."

Seeing a chance, Amanda immediately jumped on it. "Exactly, my dear friend. Would you honestly believe that I would do something like that?"

The captain of the guard however, simply handed over her lock picks, destroying any credibility she might have head. "We found her with these."

"Amanda? What have you done?" Callidora suddenly spoke up, wearing a horrified expression.

The count immediately turned towards Amanda's supposed cousin. "My dear, do you know what's going on?"

"I am so terribly sorry count. Had I known she might do this I would never have allowed her to come along. My uncle has always said he believed something went wrong with her: maybe my aunt spent a night with someone who tried to rob them. However it happened, ever since she was a little girl she has had the urge to take things. We believed she had grown over it. But obviously..." she trailed off while sadly shaking her head.

"You have my sincerest condolences," the count said with a mournful expression, while resting a hand on her shoulder. "It must be terrible to be confronted with the reality of her behavior like this."

Yes, that was something Amanda couldn't agree with more. She had listened with mounting horror as Callidora had spun her tale, doing far more damage than anyone else could possibly have done. "But-"

"No Amanda, I am truly sorry about this. You should have learned from you previous mistakes though, there is no real future in crime," Callidora said before turning back to the count. "Am I correct in understanding the punishment that she'll have to suffer?"

"I truly am sorry, but if I'm not consistent in matters like that..."

"Do not worry, while I am far from happy about it I understand what needs to be done. However, I would like to ask you for a boon."

"Normally, I would say anything. But-"

Callidora placed a finger on the count's lips. "I will not ask for her to be freed. However, I would prefer it if she died with dignity, and not after a prolonged stand with the magistrate."

"As I understand the laws, there is no need for her to die over this."

"Having her hand chopped off instead? No, think of her family dear count. Think of the humiliation that would bring us."

"I understand, is that your request? That she will receive the death penalty for this?"

But Amanda's student didn't seem finished yet. "No. My request is one of more advantage to myself. It will be hard enough to explain the situation to her parents as it is, I would prefer if I did not have to do so with a mutilated corpse as well. As I am unsure about how she would be killed, I want to ask you to have it done by the single stroke of a dagger."

Died? Kill? It was only a failed attempt at thievery! "Callie?" Amanda almost begged. She didn't want to die, even if it was only temporary. The plan had been that her student would convince the count to let her go, not to have her killed!

But Callidora didn't seem inclined to help her. "I am sorry, dear cousin. But if dieing is the only thing that will make you learn, that is the way it should be." Not fair! Using her own words against her. She hadn't been that strict a teacher, had she?

"I accept your request, milady. And I understand your plight. Sometimes the rules have to make way for the realities of the world."

"Thank you. I would prefer if I did not have to witness the event myself. Would it be possible for me to have a rest?"

"Of course," the count answered while ignoring Amanda's continued pleas and waving one of his servants over. "This day has been hard enough for you. Please escort her to a room."

….…

"She betrayed you?" Richie asked when Amanda stopped her account.

"That's what I thought at the time. And the only thing that stopped me from implicating her as well was the fact that she'd at least spared me a beheading."

"Beheading? For being a thief?"

Methos interrupted now, as he understood the situation better. "No, for being a repeat offender. And most importantly for being a noble. While they would accept many things from each other, there were limits. And if that captain of the guard had indeed recognized her from earlier escapades..."

"Okay, it still doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but I'll accept it for now. But that still doesn't explain the beheading thing. Wouldn't cutting off a hand be a better punishment?"

"Hey!" Amanda interrupted while swatting Richie playfully. "That's not nice. I rather like my hands where they are."

"I know. But I thought that's the kind of thing they did in those days."

"Normally yes. However in this case, a direct family member asked for the honor of that family to be spared the indignity of a public conviction. Although I'm pretty sure she could have argued for Amanda to be released as well."

"That's what I believed as well," Amanda acknowledged. "And that was actually the plan."

"So, why didn't she do that?"

"Because she wanted to show off," Amanda muttered darkly.

Okay, that didn't make a lot of sense. "Show off?"

"Yes. While the guards were off watching my execution, she broke into the count's room and took the loot. It was probably the only thing that stopped me from Challenging her after I'd woken up."

Somehow he doubted that, it was never easy to Challenge one of your own students. "So, she used you?"

"Isn't it great?" Amanda beamed, reinforcing Methos' opinion that he'd never understand her. "She made me so proud. I would've preferred if she'd used someone else, but she did manage to do it. And she even stayed with me for a couple of extra months as well. Not that her skills with a sword improved much, but it was a lot of fun."

Right. Somehow he couldn't imagine how much fun it could possible be to have a student who'd shown she was willing to have you killed. But he decided to remain quiet and spent his time looking out of the window until Amanda once again broke the silence.

"Ah, almost there."

Finally, Methos thought, still wondering what little town they'd be going to. It was Richie who asked the question though. "So, we're going to Sunnydale?"

"Yes." The answer sounded a bit nervous to him, and wrinkling his brow, Methos tried to come up with a reason for that.

"I know that name, although I don't know why."

"Yes, I had a feeling you would," Amanda answered, still sounding far too nervous for his liking.

This was not good. What was it about Sunnydale that could make Amanda fear his reaction? It didn't sound like any impressive town, but he was still pretty sure he'd heard the name before. But where?

It took him a couple of minutes to remember, at which time they'd already reached the house they were looking for, but that didn't take away his sudden need to leave. "You did not just bring me here, did you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Do you have any idea what this place is?"

"Of course, it's the reason Callie went to live here."

Someone knowingly came to live here? "You want me to help someone who decided to live on top of the Hellmouth? Are you crazy? I'm already sure that your student is, but I never expected such a low trick from you."

"Low trick? I didn't lie about anything."

"Oh yes, you only forgot to mention that your student lived on the Hellmouth. How could I possibly mistake that for a lie?" Methos shouted back, seriously freaked out now.

"From what I heard it's not really that bad."

"Not that bad? I've spent 5000 years evading this kind of place, and now you want me to help someone I don't even know. Someone who decided to live here?"

"Hold on," Richie injected, "what's a Hellmouth?"

"It's where Ahriman's big brothers live. A portal of sorts to Hell."

Amanda didn't agree with that explanation though, and provided her own while getting out of the car. "Well, not Hell exactly, just something that lookes like it."

Following her example, Methos didn't stop complaining. "If you think that I'm staying here, you've got a serious problem. I'm outta here."

"Will you at least come in to meet Callie?"

"Of course I will, I need to call myself a taxi. I knew I should have put the damn car on my name." The last part was muttered, as he stormed up the path leading to the front door and ringing the door bell repeatedly. There was no way he was going to be spending any more time here than necessary.

It was a couple of minutes before he could feel the familiar buzz of an Immortal, and even then it took a while before someone finally opened the door. A someone who had obviously taken the time to dress herself. Of course, she was also carrying a sword, which was quickly put aside when the woman recognized her teacher. "Amanda!"

Methos barely saw the girl move before she was hanging around Amanda's neck, muttering about how happy she was about having her there. While Richie was obviously enjoying the sight—no doubt the scene would fuel some of the boys future fantasies—Methos was getting antsy. This was the Hellmouth, and now that he knew that he wanted to be gone as fast as he could.

"Yeah, hello to you too. Can we go in now?" Not bothering to actually wait for an answer he walked inside, continuing until he reached the living room. A living room that appeared to have undergone some rigorous cleaning lately. Probably connected with the whole attackers thing. Not his problem. Something else was though. "Where's your phone?"

By now the others had joined him in the room, and Callidora demanded to know what he was doing. "What does it look like I'm doing? I want to get out of here. Your precious teacher forgot to inform me that this is where we'd be going."

"This?" Callidora's voice was freezing cold, but Methos really couldn't care less. He didn't care about insulting anyone right now. All he wanted was to get away from the Hellmouth with his life intact.

"Yes. This. The Hellmouth. The place only a complete and utter idiot would live."

"Amanda? Who is this man who thinks he can insult me in my own house?"

A weary sigh came from Amanda, but once again he didn't care. "Callie, this is Adam Pierson, the boy here who's drooling all over you is Richie Ryan."

"Hey! I'm not drooling, and besides how could anyone not do so?" The last part was muttered, but nobody had any trouble hearing it.

Of course, the stupid woman took it as a compliment. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome," Richie stuttered, probably surprised by the reaction. However, all that nonsense still hadn't solved his problem.

"Where's the phone? Or do you have a car I can use? I only need a drive to the closest airport."

"Are they all like you, Cordy?"

Turning around, Methos sized up the little girl who seemed to be standing casually in the room. Where had she come from? She wasn't Immortal, or he would have sensed her, but mortals didn't usually sneak up on him either. "Who're you?"

"Cordy?"

"Yes they are. Amanda, I'd like you to meet Dawn Summers, a good friend of mine who helped me out yesterday."

Wait a minute, this young girl had helped Callidora when she'd been attacked? Nah, she had to be speaking of something else. Or was she? He took a closer look at the girl, and while she returned the examination he didn't see anything about her that appeared to explain Callidora's comments. Well, you never knew on the Hellmouth. For all he knew she was-

His thoughts crashed to a halt as the girl was suddenly pointing a gun at him, and before he even had a chance to say something, or even dive to the side, a bullet crashed into his forehead.

x.x.x

"And?"

"It sure looks as if your contact was right. Several more people just arrived," Jason told him.

Boris nodded in acknowledgment of that statement. "Immortals?"

"We didn't get close enough to sense them, but I did recognize that thief Amanda. And Willem said the kid with them is MacLeod's student."

"Which MacLeod?"

"The younger one, I think. He's the only one with a student right now isn't he?"

"Was he there as well?" he wanted to know. The presence of someone like Duncan MacLeod could make this whole operation a lot harder than it should be.

"No, there was another man with them but he didn't seem very impressive. He looked more like a student than anything else, oh and he was very agitated, almost afraid."

"Afraid? What could he be afraid of?" Boris mused, but when he couldn't think of anything he directed his thoughts elsewhere. "Could he be a new student of Amanda? We knew she'd be coming here after those failed attacks, but I can't believe she'd take on a new student while the others are being killed."

"I don't think he's a student. Or at least not a new one, he could be a mortal though."

"A mortal? What makes you think that?"

Jason shrugged. "He didn't react to the buzz, well that or he's very good at hiding it."

"No, so far the information we've received has panned out. There are four Immortals in that house, and with only five people that leaves only him as the fourth." Yes, Boris thought, that was the only possibility as only one of the girls was Immortal.

"Maybe another one will arrive later," Jason proposed, but Boris didn't believe that would be the case.

"No, there were four once Amanda arrived. That's what we were promised and that's what we'll count on. Are they cut off?"

"Yes, unless they have a cellphone, there is no way for them to place a call. Everything is ready to take out their electricity as well, but I'm not sure how much use that'll be."

"Not much. It might scare them a bit, but they probably won't even notice," Boris conceded. That had after all mostly been a contingency plan in case they'd attack during the night. But he didn't want to risk waiting the entire day. A smile slowly crept on his face as he considered what they were about to do though. "However, I believe it is time for us to make our presence known."

"Already?"

"Yes, it's time for Amanda to find out who has been killing her students. Too bad she won't be able to take any comfort in that knowledge."

* * *

Allen Pitt: Thank you for the feedback. Well, by the time she heard the music, Dawn was once again in control and she does know the music. Preventing the fluke thing would probably not be very high on Dawn's agenda, even if she could remember the particulars about the incident.  
Your ideas about the Wish are interesting, not quite what I had in mind, but interesting nonetheless. An Immortal Cordelia would definitely be in a bad situation there, and you're right that it could be fun. The werewolf thing isn't something I'll use though. :-) As for Dawn coming to a world where Buffy is a tv-series... No. While it might sound interesting, it would destroy the series. 

Bob-from-Accounting: Thank you for your review as well. As you've read by now you know that they were indeed both practical. Although maybe not in the way you'd expected. The Terakan thing was only a warning, so it wasn't out of character (simply an extra insurance that their messenger will survive). And as for the reviews, well there aren't that many people who read the story, and while I like receiving reviews I'm not lying awake about their lack. They improve my writing and give me ideas, but they should come voluntarily. Besides, I have to confess that my own record where it comes to giving deserved reviews isn't as good as I like it either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"What the hell?" Cordelia cursed as she jumped away from the falling corpse.

"Jezus!" The boy, Ryan her mind automatically supplied, exclaimed as he too jumped away. In fact, the only two who seemed to remain calm were Dawn herself, and strangely enough Amanda. Although, now that she thought about it, the latter had probably seen weird things in her life before and had been able to control her reaction.

"What did you do that for?" Cordelia then screamed at Dawn, shock once again overruling any fear she might feel of the girl.

"I remembered."

Oh great, she was back to the short answer thing. "What? I mean I didn't like he was going to bail out, but I don't think someone like him would be capable of helping me anyway."

Dawn barely moved her head, but to Cordelia it was an obvious disagreement with her statement. "He could."

"What do you mean, he could? He was useless, all he seemed to want to do was get out of here. I can't believe he'll survive long in the Game."

"Useless, like me?"

Wrinkling her head, Cordelia considered that statement. During the night they'd spent more time talking, and she had learned that this Dawn didn't really say anything that she didn't consider important. So for her to compare the man on the floor to herself... "Okay, explain."

Before Dawn had a chance to explain though, Amanda spoke up. "Callie? Would you mind explaining to me why you have a little girl carrying a silenced gun in your house? Not that I don't want to know why she shot Adam, but, unless I'm really out of touch with this day and age, I don't remember most girls to be capable of an action like that."

"She's a bit different. I didn't know about that myself until yesterday," she answered her teacher, although she never took her eyes off the little girl.

"I gathered the different part. What is she? A Slayer?"

Once again that strange little smile appeared on Dawn's face, and this time Cordelia understood it at least a little. It seemed like everybody's first thought was about her being the Slayer. "No, that's her sister. Dawn was the recipient of a rather unfortunate spell that turned her into an assassin."

"Oh yeah. That really clears things up. I mean that kind of thing happens daily, doesn't it?" Ryan spoke up, momentarily drawing Cordelia's attention. Not for long though, as she decided there were more important things she needed to know.

"Dawn? Why?"

"I recognized him."

"Yes, you've mentioned that before. From where? And why would that bother you?"

"He's in one of Giles' books."

"What? You mean he's a demon?" Taking a step away from the body, she suddenly frowned. "No, that doesn't make sense. I could feel him. He's Immortal."

"He's more."

"Really? Why's that?"

"He has my name."

"Your name? What are you talking about?"

"'And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him'" Dawn quoted, and while Cordelia recognized the words, she didn't understand their significance.

Out of the corner of her eye she did see Amanda suddenly blanch though, and when she looked at him even Ryan seemed to understand. "Mandy?" she demanded.

"That was a long time ago. He's changed now."

A long time ago? It was suddenly becoming very clear what her teacher was talking about, and she really didn't like it. "Dawn?"

"I told you the Four Horsemen were immortal." And so she had. From what she now knew of Dawn it was obvious that the girl had recognized the man and had immediately acted on that knowledge.

"Why did you bring him?" This time Cordelia's question was aimed at Amanda. She was really fond of her teacher, but bringing someone like this with her went a bit far.

"He's a friend. He stopped being Death a long time ago, and actually helped Duncan kill the other three."

"Duncan? You mean that MacLeod you're so fond off?"

Amanda only nodded, still appearing perfectly calm. Something Ryan clearly wasn't. "Is she gonna shoot us too now? Because Adam's our friend?"

"She has a name, and can probably answer your question better than I," Cordelia answered, not really interested in having a discussion about this.

"Right. Okay. Sure. Dawn, right?"

Once again Dawn used only the slightest of movements to indicate that she'd heard him. Even while she did so though, Cordelia couldn't help but notice the way she kept her eyes on everybody in the room. Even her. Knowing that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were members of her kind had probably managed to ruin what little trust had been restored between them.

"Okay. Ehm, are you gonna kill us?"

"Do you want me to?"

Even Cordelia was surprised by that answer, maybe even more so as she knew Dawn better than the other two. This was the kind of answer she'd have expected from the old Dawn, the one she'd known only two days ago, not that of the remorseless killer who had shown herself since the slave had shown up.

"Ah, no. Not particularly actually. I prefer to stay alive."

"Excellent. You say you trust this man? The one who called himself Death?"

"Yes, of course. I've known him for years."

"If he misbehaves, tries to hurt anyone I care about, I will kill both of you."

"What? Why?" Ryan wanted to know, his earlier relief once again dashed to pieces.

Aside from lowering her gun so that it was no longer pointing at the corpse however, Dawn only shrugged before answering. "Security."

"Security?"

"You'll stop him from doing anything now. Why did he want to leave?"

The sudden change of subject was a bit fast, but Cordelia didn't need long to come up with the reason. "He's afraid of the Hellmouth."

"Your reason for coming here."

"Yes."

"Why? He's old. Don't you get more powerful the older you are?"

"Not really," Amanda explained. "While Quickenings supposedly enhance your strength, it's hard to test as they always make you feel better. And age in itself doesn't really do anything. You have more experience to draw on, probably more training, but aside from that not much."

"Interesting. How old is he? He's over four thousand years old, that's when the Horsemen first appeared. He must have gained a lot of Quickenings in that time."

"I don't think it's my place to say."

"Okay, I'll just ask him then. How old are you?"

Was this Adam really awake again? And how did Dawn come up with the four thousand thing? There couldn't actually be anyone that old, could there? Except... she remembered Amanda telling her once about the mythical Methos. Cordelia had always disregarded that as a fantasy, but what if this man was the oldest man alive?

"Stop pretending. I know you're awake." Nothing happened for a moment and letting out a sigh, Dawn raised her gun again. "I hate wasting bullets, and Cordelia wouldn't appreciate it if I ruined her carpet. So the next time I pull the trigger it will be painful."

"Oh alright already," Pierson said while getting back to his feet and dusting himself off. "You are quite a character you know that? I haven't seen anyone like you for... well it must be close to a millennium actually."

"How nice. The question?"

"Oh right. I'm a little over four thou-"

The sentence was broken by the sound of a bullet being fired and Pierson falling to the ground again. This time alive, but by the way he held his leg it obviously hurt. "Don't lie."

Several curses were uttered in a language that Cordelia didn't recognize, but guessed was pretty old, before he finally answered the question. "Alright. I'm not entirely sure. Probably five thousand, it was rather hard to tell at the time."

"You're Methos," Cordelia whispered in awe. Even now that it was confirmed she could hardly believe it. This man had done the one thing she actually cared about more than anything else. He'd lived. Staying alive for so long.

"Yeah, quite a disappointment isn't it?" Ryan spoke up.

"Disappointment?" Cordelia asked while turning to face him.

"Yeah, you hear all these stories about the guy and in the end all you find as a beer-guzzling, grouchy old man."

She blinked at that. Who cared how he acted? Who cared about what he'd done? There was only one thing that was important. "He survived."

"Yeah, well if that's his biggest achievement..."

"It's the only achievement that counts. How old are you? You act like you're still pretty young. Thirty?"

"Not quite. Why?"

"Then you can't understand yet. Once you've lived through enough you'll find out why survival is not only the most important thing, but the hardest as well."

Even Amanda appeared surprised that she thought about survival like that. "You've grown up. When we met in that forest, I never imagined you'd actually grow up to understand something like that."

Cordelia only shrugged. "Like I said, it takes almost dying a couple of times to appreciate what you've got."

"Wonderful," Pierson, no Methos, interrupted. "I'm glad to hear that someone as young as you appreciates the important things in life. Now, if you'd happen to have some beer that I could drink while waiting for the taxi I'm going to call, it would be perfect."

"You really want to leave?"

"This is Sunnydale right? Founded by some kind of psychotic with a wish to turn into a demon? Lying on top of that road they say is paved with good intentions? Damn right I'm getting out of here. The occasional vampire I don't mind all that much, but when they start coming in larger numbers and are accompanied by other demons." He shook his head. "No thank you."

"But I could really use your help. Even if its only tactics, you don't have to fight if you don't want to. Someone as experienced as you must know a lot about how to do things like this. And you don't have to worry about vampires and demons, Buffy keeps the town clean."

"Buffy? Who's that?"

"The Slayer."

"A Slayer called Buffy? What kind of parents would inflict such a name on a child?"

It was probably the strange look on Dawn's face that made him turn his attention to her. "She's my sister."

The ancient never missed a beat as he continued. "It does have a certain ring to it though. Something... I'm not sure, but it has a certain allure."

"Good save," Cordelia heard Amanda whisper. Well, at least this proved that Methos hadn't yet been awake when she'd explained Dawn's relation to the Slayer.

"Okay, I'm getting really confused here," Ryan suddenly spoke up, reminding Cordelia he was here as well. "What's all this suddenly about vampires, demons, and hell? Is that like Ahriman, something nobody has bothered to tell me about?"

"Ahriman?" The harsh tone in Dawn's voice made it clear that she knew what Ryan was talking about. "He's awake?"

"Not anymore, Mac took care of him."

"Good."

"I have to agree with that," Richie answered, "but that doesn't really answer my question."

The silence that fell, showed Cordelia that it would fall to her to explain this bit so she started it with the words all the Scoobies used when this task fell to them.. "Giles would have been so much better for this. Anyway the world is older than most people believe, and didn't start as a paradise either."

"Ehm, is this going to be about evolution? Because I already know about that. Besides it helps when you know someone who predates the bible, and actually stars in it."

"Talking about me. Can I use that telephone now?" Methos once again spoke up.

Cordelia wanted another shot at convincing him to stay, after all she was sure she'd succeed sooner or later, but Dawn already pointed out where the telephone was. The girl even supplied the number of the company!

"Dawn? Why? He can help."

"He's a possible danger."

Right. So, because he was dangerous, Dawn didn't want him here. Whatever happened to the old adage of keeping your enemies closer?

Well, at least Amanda and the young Immortal didn't seem to plan on leaving. And judging from the way Ryan had acted earlier it should at least be possible to keep him interested in staying here for a while.

"The line is dead," Methos said once he'd limped over to the telephone and picked it up.

Hearing that Cordelia wanted to scream in denial, that just wasn't possible, but then Dawn whispered a couple of strange words. "They're coming."

x.x.x

While the words in themselves sounded just a bit too much like they came from a cheesy movie, Methos remained as silent as the others. After all, he had no doubt that the little girl was right in her assumption. His leg didn't hurt much any more, and he had no doubt that even the twinges of pain he felt right now would disappear quickly. Realizing there could be more to this, he looked around to see if the electricity was cut off as well, but didn't see anything that would tell one way or the other.

A nearly silent clicking sound caught his attention then, and looking at the little girl, Dawn he reminded himself, he saw her give a slight nod. So, he'd been right. Not that he knew what they'd achieve with it, but still...

He did wonder how long it would be before whoever it was showed up. They might still be able to get out. "We've got to get out of here."

Most of the others only looked at him in confusion, but it was once again Dawn who spoke up. "Agreed. This is not the best place for a fight."

"Yeah, I have to say I like that idea," Callidora—or should he call her Cordelia?—agreed as well. Not that that was any particular surprise, Methos hadn't expected that she'd want another fight to take place in her own house.

"Let's go then," he said. He had no intention of wasting another minute and walking over to the front door—which he now noticed wasn't exactly in the best shape anymore—he opened it to step outside. Or that was his intention. In actuality he stepped back when a bullet impacted on the frame of the door, and he realized this wasn't going to work. Turning around he threw the door closed behind him, while calmly looking at the others. "Not this way."

The younger ones were still freaking out, well except for Dawn, but Amanda had regained her composure. "Back door?"

"If that's safe."

"It's not." Why did that kid always have to say these annoying things? It was bad enough that she went around killing people—well not so much people in general as people called Methos—but did she have to act so... so... annoying?

But he didn't feel like going into a discussion about the subject either. "Let's try it anyway."

Dawn only shrugged, probably not caring if something happened to him. In fact, she would probably even prefer it. He barely knew anything about her right now, but what he did know wasn't something he was very happy about.

She seemed fiercely loyal to her friends, and she believed him to be a threat to them. Which, he admitted, made a lot of sense. After all, he was who she believed him to be, and the only people vouching for him were his friends, more people she didn't know. All in all, it made for quite an interesting time. Just like the Chinese curse.

Having reached the living room with the broken window, which made him idly wonder why it hadn't been fixed yet, he looked over his shoulder at the others.

Amanda and Richie were standing fairly close to him, probably in case somebody would try to shoot him again. That way they'd be able to quickly drag him to safety. Cordelia was standing a bit further away, looking as if she wasn't quite sure what to do. It was obvious to Methos that she admired him, maybe even having something of a light crush, although that might just be vanity speaking.

The crush wasn't the only thing influencing her though, the other thing was the little girl. A little girl he was starting to have his suspicions about. Nowadays there weren't many people with skills like that at such an early age, but there had been. Oh yes, there had been.

Ruthlessly suppressing a shiver at the memories of people like the little girl, he directed his thoughts back to the task at hand, and after taking a deep breath started walking forwards. If somebody would try to stop them from leaving the house he would find out soon enough. Five steps until he could step through the window. Four. Three. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, but he didn't falter and took the next step. Two. One.

While he attempted to remain cool and quiet, Methos felt as if he was going to start sweating like a pig any time now. Nevertheless, he raised his foot and lifted it over the broken glass, putting it down on the grass outside. He hadn't been shot! That was a good thing, but he didn't for a moment believe he was out of it. Not until he was sitting in his apartment back in Seacouver would he think that.

Not wasting any more time in the unsafe garden than absolutely necessary he started running to the other side. During the mad rush he remained calm enough to consider what options were left to him. The first order of business was getting away from this town. He would have once again cursed his stupidity in not asking Amanda where exactly they were going, but knew this was neither the time nor the place for that. Instead he focused on getting out of here.

Presumably the streets were safe enough during the day, which meant they should be able to walk until they found some form of motorized transport. Unless their mysterious sniper, or whoever it was that hired him, stopped them. No, the sniper was at the front of the house. Finally having reached the end of the ridiculously large garden, he took a moment to catch his breath. Good, step one completed.

Looking behind him, he watched the others as they started following him now that it was obviously safe. All of them, except Dawn that is. Unfortunately in her case he couldn't be sure why that was. Did she suspect a trap? And if so, who did she suspect was behind it? For all he knew, she still believed him the biggest danger. Methos snorted at that delusional thought.

There was no way that she'd consider him anything else than a major threat. Considering he believed the same thing about her, that didn't really bother him though. Well, he wasn't happy about it, but he could admonish Amanda's student about picking better friends later. Now, all that he wanted was to get safely out of this town.

"Why didn't they cover this?" Amanda hissed once she'd reached him, not bothering to hide her surprise at the apparent stupidity of their enemy.

If there actually was an enemy. No, he shook his head in denial of that thought. The shot at the front door was enough proof that someone wanted to hurt them. Well, he conceded, proof that someone didn't want them to leave through the front. After all, they had been effectively herded in this direction. Something he really hated, and which was the main reason he hadn't yet opened the small gate that led to the streets behind.

"You don't know?" What? Oh, the head shaking thing.

"Because something else is waiting for us," he answered her question this time, not bothering to correct her assumption.

"This is a trap?" Richie demanded. "Then why did we walk into it?"

"We know it's there, so it'll have lost most of its use. And besides," Methos shrugged, "it's not like we've got a lot of choice in the matter. It was this or wait for them to get us."

"And you figured a running battle in the streets of Sunnydale is a better idea?" Cordelia hissed at him, although he had no idea what she was so worried about. If this place was like any other Hellmouth, the people living here wouldn't remember anything strange that happened anyway. Although, now that he thought about it... the last time he'd been on a Hellmouth nobody had been stupid enough to actually build a town on top of it.

Still, he needed to answer the woman. "Yes, unless you'd prefer your house to be messed up even more?"

Hah! That shut her up, and with more than a great deal of satisfaction he tried to see where the little killer was. They might not trust each other very much, but he preferred her with them if they had to fight. Dawn was nowhere to see though. "Where's your friend?"

"What do you mean? Isn't she?" Cordelia asked before turning around to look at the house, a house that appeared completely empty of life. Great, she had left them to fend for themselves. It didn't fit with his earlier ideas about how she was so protective of her friend, but he'd wasted too much time already anyway.

Opening the gate however, he was greeted by a sight that didn't sit well with him. That didn't sit well with him at all.

"Oh man," Methos heard Richie moan from beside him, but the only thing he paid attention to were the three men standing far enough away that he couldn't be sure they were Immortals.

Well, the swords they were holding gave it away, but he didn't feel a buzz yet. The moment he had that thought however, all three of them stepped forwards and he could feel their buzzes. Great, bloody show offs, and how long would they have needed to find out the exact place they needed to stand?

"I think we might want to go back inside," he said calmly.

Richie nodded so vigorously that he could actually hear the swish of the boy's clothes. "You know old man, for once I have to agree with you."

"I don't think it'll do much good though," Methos added. "But at least we'll be able to face them in the garden. Unless of course, your house happens to have another exit you forgot to mention?"

The last part was directed at Cordelia, but even before she shook her head to deny that statement he'd known it was unlikely. "Only the garage, but that opens up at the front as well. And as there's only one car in it, it won't help us all."

"Only one?" He'd have thought that with her acting the rich little snobby cheerleader girl wannabe that she'd have her own car.

"Only my father's, I mean Anthony's, car. Mine is still at the school with four flats, and I don't know where the others are." Great.

Oh well, couldn't be helped. Methos watched the steady approach of the three men for another few seconds before turning around and walking into the garden. Now he would need to fight, and for that he'd prefer to have a slight warming up. Amanda was so going to pay for getting him in this situation. He didn't know how that would happen, but there was no doubt in his mind that he'd come up with something suitable.

Taking out his Ivanhoe, he slipped out of the long coat he used to hide it, and threw it over a bush. He ignored the angry voice of Cordelia telling him not to do that, instead opting to focus on preparing for the coming battle. Calmly he swung the sword around in a complicated pattern of which the only use was to loosen his limbs.

He had no idea who the Immortals were, but from their ridiculous theatrics he figured they were more show than anything else. Of course, they could very well be so showy because they were good. Until he saw them fight there was no way to tell which was the case. Focused completely on his warm-up, Methos nonetheless knew exactly what was happening around him.

Richie and Amanda had started doing something similar, while Cordelia was only holding her sword mumbling incoherently about it all being unfair. Had his life not been in danger he might have spared some of his concentration to tell her off, but now wasn't the time for that. No, now was the time to feel the sun beating down on him, to learn where the shadows were in this garden and where the glare of the sun would block his sight.

It was important to know where he could use the reflection of his blade to achieve a similar affect, and how this would influence his fighting style. He needed to ensure his body was warmed up enough for there to be a good blood flow and no chance of sudden cramps. That was what he focused on, until the three Immortals stepped into the garden.

"Good, you haven't tried to escape," the apparent leader said while trying to judge their skill levels. Of course, Methos had stopped his movement the moment they arrived, with Amanda and Richie following his example.

"Who are you?" Amanda demanded. She obviously didn't know who they were, although she probably had the same idea he had. "Why did you come here?"

"Oh, Amanda, Amanda. Don't tell me you don't remember. You are the reason we're here. Well, we decided to enjoy the Quickenings of your friends too, but that was just a bonus."

A quick glance to the side showed him that Amanda was still confused, but she tried again. "Okay, and what if I don't remember? I'm pretty sure I would've remembered a good looking man like you."

Methos felt like groaning out loud, this was not the time to start flirting. Obviously the Immortals felt the same. "Don't try that on me, you don't really believe I'll fall for that a second time do you?"

A second time? So the man had actually met Amanda before. Which really begged the question of why she didn't remember him. She was good with names and faces, that was after all an important skill for her work as a thief. Not that he believed she would remember everybody she encountered, but the fact was that no Immortal quickly forgot another.

"I don't remember you," Amanda admitted as the frustration she felt at this inability started to show on her face. "When was this?"

Remaining silent Methos studied the men before him, Amanda had probably met the Immortal while he was a pre-Immortal and she too young to recognize the buzz for what it was. So he didn't intend to spend more than half of his attention on that conversation, while most of it was focused on figuring the weaknesses of these men.

Unless they were tactical idiots they would leave Cordelia for last, which meant that he'd have to fight either of the men flanking the leader. While he didn't think that was a sign of tactical genius either, it was obvious that the leader would be fighting Amanda. The man on the left was a stocky blond, carrying a gladius of all things.

That was almost like bringing a knife to a gunfight in his opinion, but if the wielder was good enough even a short weapon like that could pose a serious threat to his life. Judging by the man's posture, he appeared relaxed. The bright eyes that were scanning him and his companions, were enough to put Methos on his guard however and he promised himself not to underestimate this man.

The other man was taller and carried a longer weapon as well. A simple two-handed broadsword that Methos had always believed to be too unwieldy to use himself. That was surprising though, he really had figured that the short man would have gone for the power approach, while the dark-skinned man he was looking at now would have worked on his speed.

Not that it really mattered to him, after all he had survived for millennia already and had no intention of losing his head to a couple of upstarts. Throughout this Amanda was still claiming that she didn't remember the leader. Not that it helped them in any way as it only served to anger the man.

"Fine. I Challenge you," the man finally bit out, no longer wanting to put off his revenge. Revenge for what was still a bit unclear to Methos, but then again Immortals didn't really need a reason to Challenge another.

Amanda shrugged, and went into a ready position. Alright, Methos thought, this was the moment. Both of the other two opponents looked eager as well, but before he was going to fight he wanted the answer to a rather important question. "Just wondering, but if we win will your sniper let us go?"

The predatory smile he received as an answer didn't do anything to ease his mind. Great, these people really wanted Amanda dead. At least they played by the rules while they were still alive. Snipers were of a later concern: right now his first order of business was the broadsword and the man wielding it. The sight still didn't work for him though, broadswords were a European invention, to be used by those walking tanks called knights. It just didn't suit the man facing him now.

Nothing to do about it though. Before his fight started he spared one last look at Richie who was facing the short blond man, and Amanda who would have to deal with the Russian. Taking a deep breath he then slipped into the mindset required for a brutal fight and prepared for the attack.

x.x.x

"Hey Dawn," Jane greeted when she opened the door for Dawn.

"Hi, is Sara here yet?"

Jane only shook her head to show that wasn't the case, before she turned around and led Dawn into the house. "No, but she'll probably be here soon."

The fact that her friend hadn't arrived yet immediately set Dawn on edge, but she tried to calm herself with the knowledge that it was unlikely anything had happened. The Order hadn't even sent anyone to talk to her yet, so they wouldn't do anything to Sara, would they?

No they wouldn't. She was sure of it, at least that's what she tried to tell herself. If only that tiny niggling feeling of doubt didn't try to convince her otherwise. Focus on other things Dawn, focus. Walking into the living room she saw Jane's parents and greeted them. "Hi mister Nielson, mrs Nielson."

"Hello Dawn, you're up early."

"Oh no, I usually get up long before this." In fact, she had done so today as well. Getting up at six and then going for a run. The only problem with that right now was that she had to take care to avoid any vampires out late for a snack. Of course, they were one of the reasons she brought her gun along on those runs, so if something happened she didn't doubt she'd be able to handle it.

"Really? Maybe you should teach Jane how to do that."

"Thanks mom," Jane said sarcastically, "that really makes me feel loved."

"You're welcome, dear," the woman smiled back.

The expression of sudden outrage on Jane's face was enough to make Dawn crack a smile, something her friend noticed. "And you! You call yourself a friend? First making me get up at the crack of dawn, no pun intended thank you very much, and then laughing at me."

Had Dawn believed even for a single moment that Jane was serious about this, she would have handled the situation differently. As it was though, the whole getting up early thing her friend had with her parents was a battle that had been raging for years. Some of the stories Sara had told her about the particular fights that happened were quite amusing as well.

Apparently there had been an entire week, in the middle of the summer vacation, that Jane's father had woken her up by drenching her with water. At half past six in the morning. Luckily Jane was a very stubborn girl and she never allowed behavior like that to interfere with her sleep. Or at least she didn't get up earlier out of her own volition. In fact, the week after that she'd stayed in bed until well past noon.

While that was not something she planned to do again, apparently the lack of food and overabundance of boredom had put a stop to it, there were many things her friend could still do to win that fight. Things that Dawn was actually looking forward to witness. How could she have even considered walking out on her friends? Oh wait, Jane wanted an answer.

"Hey, if I can't laugh at you, who can?"

"That's not a very good argument, you know. If you want to convince me of something I'd really prefer it if you did a better job of it."

Rolling her eyes to show her friend what she thought of that, Dawn tried again. "Oh come on, it's not like you've never had any weak arguments either. I mean, just look at the way you try to convince Sara and me to watch a certain show or read a book."

"I never use weak arguments for that," Jane frowned.

"Of course you do, you only say that they are good."

"They are! So that's not a weak argument, it's the best one possible."

"But you never give any reasons," Dawn tried again, enjoying this moment of normalcy.

"I don't have to, if I like it it's obviously a good show or book."

Letting out a short laugh, Dawn shook her head. "Oh no, it doesn't work like that."

"Sure it does, and besides you're only this recalcitrant because we didn't give you your Xander for Christmas."

"Recalcitrant? You know people don't actually use that word when speaking, don't you?" Dawn asked before she caught up with the rest of the sentence. "And uh... you were going to give me Xander?"

"Xander, is that the same Xander who?" Jane's father suddenly interrupted.

"Yes dad, Dawnie here has had a crush on him for months"

"Hey, you don't have to tell everybody about that," Dawn hissed.

Quickly putting her hand in front of her mouth, Jane mockingly said. "Oops, I slipped and now my parents know that you've already got your wedding planned. Or actually, from what you told me the wedding ni-"

Okay, this had gone a bit too far and Dawn had quickly put her hand over the one already covering Jane's mouth. "Nah nah nah nah nah, nobody's hearing your nonsense."

A quick glance at the parental units however showed them smiling, and obviously aware of what her friend had been trying to say. Letting go of Jane she therefore only sighed. "And I thought it was bad when Buffy started reading my diary last night."

"Buffy read your diary? Why did she do that?"

"I went to the library yesterday to thank Xander for saving you. I still can't believe he never told me, or even Buffy. Anyway, she saw that and wanted an explanation."

"So she read your diary? What kind of logic is that? Oh, but how did you thank him? Did you give him a kiss? Tell me girl, you obviously enjoyed it."

Disappointedly shaking her head, Dawn had to admit she hadn't kissed the boy she loved. "He was standing, I couldn't reach his face. He really should be smaller you know, or I should be taller that would work too. I hugged him, arms around his middle and enjoying the experience."

"So, you only used the fact that he saved me as an excuse to cop a feel?"

"I did not! I was very sincere in wanting to thank him, it's just that I didn't want to waste the opportunity."

"Yeah yeah, anyway what was so bad about Buffy reading your diary then?"

Okay, she shouldn't have said that. Especially in front of her friend's parents. On the other hand, she had no intention of lying to her either, so she whispered in Jane's ear whose eyes went wide after that.

"Really? " Dawn only nodded in confirmation. "Wow, but why did you write those dreams down? You have wet dreams about a friend of your sister, who you know reads your diary, and you still put them in there."

The way Jane's parents were trying to hide their smiles was bad enough for her to feel like sinking through the floor in shame, but the look on Jane's face that clearly told her that she had no clue what was so special clinched it.

Hanging her head in shame she therefore didn't speak until Sara arrived. If it hadn't been so important that she talked to her friends, she might have actually gone home. How could Jane do this to her?

….…

"Oh come on Dawn, it's not that bad is it?" Sara tried, once Jane had explained the situation to her. "It's not like adults gossip all the time."

An angry glare was all the answer she thought her friend deserved, so Dawn kept quiet. Jane on the other hand tried to make up her earlier blunder. "Really Dawn, I'm sorry. I simply wasn't thinking."

"You were the first time," she grudgingly answered. There was no point in her friend not understanding why she was angry.

"Well yeah, but that was simply teasing. Mom and dad knew that, and would have accepted it as such."

Empathically shaking her head, Dawn denied that idea. "No they didn't. I could see it in their faces, but then you had to confirm it out loud for them anyway. It's bad enough that Buffy asked questions about how to do certain things. Who knows what your parents will say the next time they speak to mom."

"They won't say anything about this will they?" Now Sara was starting to look a bit nervous as well. It was hard to believe she could really think that though.

Once again pacing through Jane's room, she started to explain the facts of life to her friends. "People gossip. Men, women, young, and old. It doesn't matter, it's like they can't stop. Of course, it's very useful while planning a mission as there are enough ways to get information out of people if you're just willing to go far enough."

"Far enough?" Sara squeaked. "You mean torture?"

What? "No, of course not." Even if she had she would never have admitted that out loud after seeing the looks on her friends' faces. "I meant seducing people."

"Hold on, you don't mind talking about seducing people, but you're embarrassed because I happened to mention your lewd dreams."

"Lewd?" Sara asked. "Did somebody give you one of those word-a-day calendars for Christmas or something? People don't talk like that you know."

"Of course they do, just because the average Baywatch look-a-like doesn't even understand what it means doesn't make the word redundant."

"They write words like that in newspapers and sleazy novels, Jane," Sara sighed. "Don't try to make more of it than there is."

"I'm not making more of it than there is. They are perfectly fine members of the English language, and I intend to use them like that. It's my new year's resolution."

"What? To act like a snob?"

Dawn didn't say anything to this though, her anger and embarrassment were starting to fade as she realized they were useless emotions. Hadn't she come here to save her friends? Nevertheless, that didn't mean she couldn't make her disagreement clear without using any words.

"A snob?" Jane screeched. "I'm not acting like a snob, just because I want to use better language. And you, what's your problem with it?"

The last part was directed at her, so Dawn actually chose to answer. "Those resolutions are ridiculous. Why do you waste your time with them?"

"A waste of time now, eh? You didn't say so last year. If I remember correctly you made a promise to have Robert give you a kiss. Although I can't remember that actually happening."

"Of course it didn't. That was just a silly little crush I got over within weeks."

"What? You have a crush? If I remember correctly you were claiming that he was the love of your life, not unlike the way you talk about Xander right now."

That didn't sit well with her. "That was nothing like what's between Xander and me, how can you even compare the two of them?"

"Well, I don't really see the difference. Both of them are boys, although your Xander is older and a hero for saving Jane," Sara started to tear her argument down. "In the end though, it's basically the same. From one day to the next you're in love with him and don't care about any other boy. And as always, it's one-sided. Why don't you try again when he returns your feelings? Personally I'm getting a bit sick of constantly hearing Xander this, Xander that."

Dawn was crushed. A quick look at Jane showed her that her other friend held similar thoughts on the subject, but how could they? She barely mentioned Xander. And after Kirika had taken over it became even less. No, they had to be mistaken. "I don't talk about him that much."

"Dawn, every single time we watch television and we sigh over a great looking guy, you tell us that Xander looks better."

"Well, he does! That doesn't mean I talk about him the whole time though." The mention of television reminded her that she still had to find more information about the whole Immortal thing. With the possible exception of that Richie boy, she didn't know any of the people who'd arrived to help Cordelia, but that didn't say much.

"I wasn't finished," Sara interrupted her interruption. "It doesn't matter if it's some guy on television or the Eiffel tower. Either Xander looks better, is better, or would make it better."

That was a bit exaggerated, Dawn thought, while allowing this small distraction to once again turn her mind away from her dreams. "I'm not that bad."

"Yes you are. Hold on, Jane do you have that notebook here?"

"Which one?"

"The one with the counting," Sara explained.

A thoughtful expression briefly crossed Jane's face, before it cleared up and she dove for her schoolbag. "Got it right here, I think." A lot of muttering and flying objects followed, before she suddenly came up for air while holding the mentioned notebook.

Sara immediately took it and skimmed through it, obviously looking for something. "Aha! Here it is, what do you say of this?"

Looking at the page Dawn immediately saw what Sara was talking about. They had noted how often she'd mentioned Xander! She wasn't really happy about it, because while she believed it had happened honestly, she could tell that she'd mentioned him about twenty times during that day. "Alright, but that's not too much over the course of a day, is it?"

"Ah Dawn?" Jane said after taking her own look, probably trying to determine which day they were speaking off. "That's only during math."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Do you understand what we're talkin' about now?" Sara asked.

She did, but that didn't mean she wanted this conversation to continue. A smooth transition to the reason she'd come here was out of the question, but that didn't mean she couldn't change the subject anyway. "I understand. Now, the reason I've come here is actually more important than that."

"More important than your silly little crush?" Jane teased.

It's not a crush! Dawn felt like screaming it out, but controlled herself. "Considering that people are thinking about trying to kill you, I'd say so yes."

This stopped all signs of teasing as her friends suddenly blanched. "Kill us?" Sara squeaked.

"I've told you about the Order of Teraka, haven't I?" Dawn asked.

Both of her friends nodded that she had indeed done so. "You did. They're the ones who tried to kill your sister a while ago and then tried to do the same to you when you were in LA right?"

Right, in LA where she'd brutally massacred a whole lot of people. The thought still served to make her a bit queasy, but she couldn't show that to her friends. They didn't know what she'd done there, and they never should find out about it. "Yes. I got a letter from them yesterday."

"Ah Dawn? Yesterday was the first of January, mail doesn't exactly get delivered."

"Hush, I want to know about the killing us thing. I don't care if mail is delivered or not," Sara admonished their friend.

Jane seemed to deflate a little as she was reminded of that little fact. "Oh yeah."

Looking at the white faces of her friends, Dawn was once again reminded of why exactly she hadn't wanted them involved. Her life wasn't made for friends, they were always in danger. Even only thinking about that reminded her of someone else who'd been her, or rather Kirika's, friend. He had been killed in the streets of Paris by someone hunting Mireille. It wasn't really her memory, but she could still remember the smell of his blood when she crouched over him and the screeching sound as the car containing the murderer fled from the scene.

And now the only two real friends she had in this world had been put in danger by her as well. Closing her eyes for a moment she tried to stave of the feeling of impending doom that was slowly encroaching upon her. Maybe she should have left them yesterday after all. Maybe this wouldn't have happened then. No, she realized when opening her eyes and spearing her friends with them. The threat would have come anyway, the only difference was that she wouldn't have been able to explain everything this easy to Sara and Jane.

But nothing would happen to them. She would make sure of that. This life was hers, and she was the only one who would control what was going to happen. No two-bit wannabe assassin losers would make that choice. And once their negotiator arrived she would make that clear to them. If they looked at any of her friends wrong, they would die. If they said their names in a way she considered threatening, they would die. If they thought she was bluffing... they were stupid.

"Dawn? Are you gonna continue?" Sara suddenly asked, bringing Dawn back from the bleakness of her thoughts.

"Yes," she whispered, adopting Kirika's speech patterns. "The Terakans sent me a letter. A promise and a warning. Carrot and stick."

"What kind of letter?"

Instead of answering verbally, Dawn took the piece of paper from her pocket and handed it over to her friends, so that they could examine it.

While they were doing so, she studied their faces. Despite the fact that they tried to hide their reactions, she could still easily recognize when they reached certain parts of the short letter. Fortunately she had painted the Order as the most evil of organizations, which helped them accept her actions.

If only they knew what she really was. In the show she, no Kirika and Mireille, had been the heroes. The people who the viewer was rooting for. She remembered how all of that had happened. Remembered it with the clarity that came with her now nearly perfect memory. Yes, they could be seen as the good guys, or girls, but even in the show the darkness they really were shone through occasionally.

She might not be pure evil, but at the moment she couldn't reach more than a dark gray either. Something her friends would undoubtedly find out one day, and when they did their reactions to her wouldn't be nearly as positive.

"Do you have the pictures here as well?" Jane asked after she'd finished reading the letter for a second time. "I have a feeling they're pretty important to understand this. Because obviously they fear you'll kill their emissary, so their precautions must be pretty good."

Dawn looked in her friend's eyes, until she discovered the glimmer of fear and knowledge that she knew would be there. She knew. It was after all pretty obvious, and the photos would only serve as a confirmation. Handing them over, she continued watching Jane's face. Upon seeing the pictures her friend only closed her eyes for a few moments, before looking up at her again.

"No, the emissary won't come to any harm, and he will go home with the knowledge that nothing will stop me if they make true on those threats," Dawn stated carefully. She didn't want there to be any doubt in her friends minds about this. "Nothing will change that, not even embarrassing me in front of your parents."

The light teasing served its goal as both her friends offered a wan smile. "So, you forgive me then?"

"I didn't say that," she replied to Jane's attempt to lighten the mood even further. "I just won't let any harm come to you because of it."

Seeing their faces fall again, Dawn cursed herself for once again ruining the mood. She should have simply played along, not caring about anything else but cheering up her friends. Not knowing how to make up for her faux pas she kept quiet; immersing the room in silence while each of them thought about the consequences of this letter.

Except that wasn't what she was thinking off. There was something else on her mind right now as she once again turned to her dreams. Last night hadn't been the best where it came to progress in the dream, in fact she almost considered it a regression. The first couple of attacks she and Cordelia had been able to withstand, and she had figured that the presence of her friend's teacher would ensure the situation got even better.

No, not her friend. She was in the real world now, and here Cordelia was not her friend. Instead she was a Xander stealer. Alright, that wasn't something she could really blame anyone for; if she had the chance she'd do the same. Back to the dream then. When Cordelia had gone downstairs to open the door she had been awake.

It had been quite a revelation actually, she had never suspected that Cordelia would make people wait at the unopened door while doing her hair. Dawn hadn't needed long to get dressed. Putting on her own pants and only borrowing a shirt from Cordelia she had quickly followed the other down. And when the woman suddenly froze, she had recognized the buzz for what it was. Immortals. One, two, or even more wasn't something she could tell from Cordelia's reaction, but she didn't care either.

While Cordelia grabbed her sword Dawn faded into the shadows of the stairway, after disengaging the safety on her gun. Aside from a single gun and some spare clips, she had dumped the weapons she'd collected yesterday with their owners. She didn't have any immediate use for the weapons, and without any idea on how they'd been obtained getting rid of them had been the safest course of action.

She wasn't thinking about that though. Instead, while holding the weapon in her right hand, she focused on not being seen and prepared herself for the action she hoped wouldn't happen. She might hope that was the case, but if she had a choice in the matter there was no way that she'd ever stake her life on something that silly.

She'd relaxed when it became obvious that Cordelia's teacher was one of the people who'd arrived, although she didn't show herself. When the group had then passed her, she had been half-surprised that these observant people hadn't discovered her. Obviously the man's loud complaining about being on the Hellmouth had been enough to distract them though.

Of course, once she'd remembered where she'd seen the man before, she hadn't hesitated in showing herself. Now if only she could remember in which book she'd seen his picture! It was nice that she knew about it in the dream, but if she did she could look it up in the real world it would be a good step in solving the riddle of whether or not Immortals existed here as well. Oh, and incidentally if one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse was still running around.

"So, what do we do?" Jane asked, being the first to break the silence.

"Are we in a lot of danger?" Sara added.

"I know of only two times that the Order failed to achieve their mission," Dawn told them.

That didn't seem to sit well with Sara. "And they've existed for like several thousand years right? That's not a lot then."

"Two times aside from the ones where you were involved, or total?" Jane asked after thinking it through a bit further.

"Total. And if they try to see if the third time's the charm, they'll be out of luck as well."

"Good," Sara nodded. Despite her bravado however, it was clear to Dawn that her friend was terrified. A problem that needed to be solved.

"The only danger right now concerns this emissary, once I've talked to him the two of you should be safe again."

"Until they want something from you again."

"No," Dawn shook her head purposefully, "I'll make it clear that this isn't acceptable."

"Except that won't work until you've spoken to the emissary, of which you don't know when it'll happen."

"True, but I doubt it'll be very long."

"Right," Sara nodded before turning to Jane. "How about a slumber party? I don't know about you, but I think I'd rather have Dawn with me when the assassins come calling."

"You know Sara, I think you just hit the nail on the head. That's an excellent solution, what do you think Dawn?"

She didn't know. Her friends knew about her, they had even been present during one of her dream episodes, but there was still something about sharing a bed with somebody else than Mireille. Or even sharing a room for that matter. On the other hand, she countered, she had to get over that fear sooner or later and she'd slept in this room yesterday as well.

And that was such a great experience that she really wanted to do it again. However, Sara's argument about keeping the two of them safe was a valid one. Reluctantly Dawn nodded her head in agreement, hoping that she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life.

Right, as if anything she did here could possibly worsen her track record. Watching her friends break out in relieved smiles Dawn wondered about them. They knew who and what she was, but despite that knowledge they were more than happy to have her stay over. Why? She was an assassin, not a hero. Buffy was the hero. No! Not that again. She was getting pretty sick of constantly comparing herself to her sister.

Yes, the other girl was the better person. Anyone doubting that should be shot on principle. There was also the fact that sooner or later they would be facing each other in a fight, a fight that she had no intention of winning. Being responsible for the death of her sister seemed like one of the worst things that could happen, and she would do anything in her power to prevent that from happening.

"Hold on, I'll go ask mom if it's alright for you two to stay here," Jane interrupted her musings.

"You do that girl," Sara answered while playfully shooing her friend out of the room. Dawn watched the girl go, before her attention was brought back to Sara as her friend spoke up. "How are you doing?"

"What?"

Sara shrugged a bit uncomfortably. "Well, I know that Jane isn't really concerned with the whole emotional stuff, focusing more on the how and why, but this can't be easy on you."

Closing her eyes for a moment, Dawn allowed a smile to come to her face. This was one of the things she liked about Sara, the fact that she was so sensitive to other people's feelings. At least if she allowed herself to show it. It was how the three of them had become friends. When arriving in Sunnydale she hadn't known anyone here, causing her to feel incredibly lonely.

Those first couple of days before she went to school had been terrible in that regard, and when she arrived at school it didn't seem to be looking up. The usual groups had already been formed, leaving her with no idea of who she could join. The popular kids, who looked like the kind Buffy always hang around with before she torched that gym, or maybe the geeks? Not that she considered either of those groups a real option, but they were the extreme ends of the spectrum.

Dawn had always preferred to stay out of the way of the more extreme groups, opting to remain in the safe and easy middle. Simply being who she was, and never worrying about how she was supposed to act. Unfortunately, she didn't know which group that was here, and first impressions were always important. Especially in a school.

Her problems had been solved when she had been approached by Sara, who then introduced her to Jane. The three of them had quickly become friends, and Dawn had been able to enjoy her time at school. While completely different in some regards, her newfound friends were far more similar than she'd expected, something she didn't really discover until later.

"You constantly amaze me Sara," she smiled. "And I keep wondering why you aren't ruling the school, nobody would stand in your way."

"Rule the school?" her friend laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't rule a school, no matter what those cheerleader wannabes think. No, that's not for me. Besides, do you have any idea how my parents would have reacted if I'd started acting like Chase?"

"Cordelia isn't really that bad you know."

"In your dreams maybe," Sara laughed, before sobering. "Oh right, that's probably what you were thinking about right?"

"Among others," Dawn answered, before quickly trying to steer the topic away from the direction she really didn't want to discuss right now. "But despite the way she stole Xander from me, she isn't that bad."

Really. At least that's what she was trying to tell herself. Cordelia was alright, even Kirika had respected her during Halloween. There was no reason to believe differently, although Sara remained skeptical. "Really? Because, you know, I rather doubt that. I've known her for practically my entire life and I've always thought of her as useless. And remember, that's me speaking, Jane is even worse."

"Why haven't you ever told me this before?" Dawn asked.

"When would we have told you? I mean you barely knew the girl. I don't think you've ever spoken to her before Halloween, right?"

This was a point Dawn had to agree with. "True. I've only seen her, and Buffy never mentioned her either."

"Right, and after that you never mentioned you've suddenly become friends."

"Well, not friends exactly..." Dawn hedged, understanding what Sara was trying to say. "Okay, so you didn't really know I've spoken to her a couple of times until we discussed the dreams."

"Right, the dreams," Sara spoke up again. "Has anything happened there?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now. Maybe later."

Judging by Sara's quick agreement, the girl was obviously still trying to get her in a better mood. "Right. So, just wondering, what kind of training are you doing? I know about the martial arts stuff, but I don't even really understand why it's necessary."

Okay, this was a safe subject. "I was possessed by Kirika's spirit during Halloween, and because of the spell I received some of her physical characteristics as well. Of course, when the spell ended I kept the memories, spirit, whatever you want to call it, but I completely lost the physical stuff. It's like I know how to react to things, but I just don't have the training to do it."

"Ri-i-ight," Sara drawled. "Aside from the weird stuff, what you're saying is that it's like you read in a book how to do karate, but never actually went through the wax-on, wax-off phase?"

"Sorta, it's a bit more complicated than that, but yeah."

"Okay, I can deal with that. Still, does that mean you're training with weapons as well? Knives aren't that hard to find."

Dawn hesitated for the tiniest of fractions, but the sudden widening of Sara's eyes told her that it was probably too long anyway. "Yeah, I've done some training with knives."

"But not just knives, did you? You've got a gun."

"What's this about a gun, I hear?" Jane asked while walking back into the room, causing Dawn to quickly look around to see if her friend's parents were around as well.

When that wasn't the case, she once more focused back on her friends, where Sara provided Jane with a quick rundown of their conversation. "Anyway, I think she's got a gun."

"Well yeah, that makes sense, doesn't it? What with the things she did in LA and all? Where did you get it though?" This last part was directed at Dawn. "Dad won't even let me touch his, in fact he used to hide it somewhere I couldn't find it when I was younger."

"He stopped hiding it?" Sara asked surprised.

"Nah, at least he doesn't think so. I discovered it a while back, and as he doesn't know that he hasn't moved it again."

"Makes sense, but that still doesn't tell us where Dawn got hers."

As the two expectant faces turned towards her, she wasn't sure how she could get out of this. She didn't want to lie to them again, which basically left only one option. And it wasn't as if it was something they weren't allowed to hear anyway. "I got it in LA."

"Really? Did you find a weapons dealer there? One that actually sold to kids?"

"Eventually he did, and Dave led me to him."

"Dave?" her friends asked in chorus, making her curse herself for that little slip. Knowing how they'd react to a boy was the main reason she'd edited him out when she'd originally told them about the events in LA.

"Yes, he's a boy that tried to roll me. Once we'd established that wasn't gonna happen he helped me find what I needed."

"Is he cute?" Sara asked, while Jane went for the question she believed more important.

"Is he single?"

"Probably, to both questions."

That obviously didn't sit well with her friends. "Probably? What kind of judgment is that? How can someone be probably cute? Either he is, or he isn't."

"I didn't really pay attention to him in that regard."

Sara sighed heavily at hearing that. "Dawn, Dawn, Dawn. You've obviously got a lot to learn. It doesn't matter if you're in love, married, engaged, dating, or whatever. There is no excuse whatsoever for not checking out any guy who cames within reach. Do you really believe men don't look? I mean, are you planning on staying single for long once you dump Xander? Or will you move on to the next one?"

"I won't dump Xander. He's my soulmate."

Once again Jane rolled her eyes, she obviously hadn't changed her mind about soulmates. "Right. Anyway, whether or not he is your soulmate doesn't matter. You can't spend the rest of your life wondering how another man would kiss. And besides, we've had this discussion before, you never stay with a single victim for long."

"Victim?" Dawn asked indignantly, "Xander's no victim."

"Yeah, because he's dating someone, right? If he'd been single you'd probably be trying to find ways to get him to notice you."

"Maybe. But that's not the point," Dawn countered feebly. Why did they keep denigrating her relationship with Xander? He would marry her; no matter what they might believe.

Dawn spent an additional half hour trying to convince them that she was right, but by the time they went over to Sara's place she still hadn't succeeded. The three of them had enough experience with slumber parties to know exactly what to bring so it didn't take very long to grab what little Sara would need, and they were off to the next stop.

Walking through the park that would lead them to Dawn's house, the three of them were interrupted by a sight that Dawn had been both expecting and dreading. A single man was standing in the park when they crossed it. And noticing the three of them of them he started approaching, something that caused Jane to almost start panicking until Dawn calmed her down with words that shouldn't have that effect.

"It's only a Terakan. Don't worry."

* * *

Allen Pitt: Thank you for the review. I hadn"t even thought about what Dawn could do in return to Buffy... You offered an interesting possibility though. Well, you know by now that Dawn had a different reason for shooting Methos, but that doesn"t mean you weren"t right about one thing. If this Dawn was an Immortal, the Game wouldn"t last long anymore.

Darklight: Once again, thank you for this review. I already answered it in the group, but couldn"t say much at the time as it would have spoiled this chapter. So you see that, considering the information Dawn had, shooting Methos in the head wasn"t really that strange. A simple matter of protecting the people she cares about.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"What do you want?" Dawn demanded as the Terakan reached the three of them.

"Good afternoon, miss Summers."

"Don't bother. I don't like you, and never will."

The Terakan smiled a nearly perfect smile before answering. "You don't even know me. People really shouldn't be judged by their first impression. Imagine what would happen if people did that with you."

"They'd see what I want them to see," Dawn bit out. Despite her strong appearance though, she was anxiously trying to calm herself. She hadn't counted on them approaching her now. She wasn't ready yet! The other personalities would undoubtedly have been able to slow her racing heart, but she was hardly capable of speaking calmly.

"No doubt," the man smiled again. Again! Who did he think he was? Some kind of Hollywood star or something?

"What do you want?"

For a moment the man looked confused. Success! She was starting to get back in the game! "Surely you must have received our letter. Isn't that why you are together with your friends here?"

"Friends you threatened," Dawn glowered. Anger threatened to overcome her, but digging deeply in her pocket she took hold of the metal watch she kept there and allowed the cool metal to calm her down. Maybe it would be a good idea to have someone else take over. Kirika, or the True Noir.

Talking about friends, she didn't dare take attention away from the man before her, but judging by the occasional soft whimper or heavy breath she realized her friends were far from comfortable with the situation. And the four of them were starting to draw attention as well, it would be better if she and the Terakan went somewhere alone. Have a short chat away from prying eyes. No, the other personalities might not be able to control her actions, but she could sense their disapproval of that notion.

"Maybe we should go somewhere private? Where we can discuss things without fear of being interrupted?" the Terakan proposed.

Dawn had made up all of her minds by then and shook her head before pointing at the group of playing children and proposing another plan. "No, let's go sit on one of those benches."

The Terakan looked confused for a moment, as if something had happened he hadn't counted on. His face quickly cleared up though, and after indicating his agreement he executed a sweeping bow that indicated she should precede him. Not that she had any intention of doing so. Walking in front of an assassin who could undoubtedly kill her the first chance he got? Not a chance.

"Very well," the man said when she hadn't moved for a couple of seconds. "Why don't we walk side-by-side then?"

Nodding her head, Dawn wondered how she could best ensure her friends' safety. Let them walk behind her? No, the Terakan might not be alone. Let them walk in front, where she could keep her eye on them. "Jane, Sara. Why don't the two of you pick out a nice bench for us to use?"

"Ah, sure Dawn," Jane answered before both she and Sara walked off, making sure not to come too close to the assassin.

An assassin who watched that scene with barely contained mirth. "They fear me, I wonder why they fear me but don't have the nearly the same feelings where it comes to you."

"What are you talking about?" Dawn asked, immediately suspicious of anyone making such a statement, and doubly so when it came from a Terakan.

"Their body language," the man explained. A perfectly fine explanation, she realized, although the other personalities once again seemed to disagree.

That disagreement made her frown, but she soon realized that it didn't really matter anyway and body language was as good an explanation as any.

"Fine. Shall we go then?"

"I don't think they know about your excesses in Los Angeles, do they?"

The question caught her off guard, and Dawn almost went as far as to admit the truth to him. The man was pretty easy to speak to, no wonder the Order sent him as an emissary. "That's not important is it? You came here for a reason and I think we should take care of that. That way you can leave as soon as possible."

"Don't you like me here?"

Of course she did. No she didn't. Shaking her head, Dawn got rid of that strange first thought and glowered at the man. "No. I want you gone. The fact that your kind has repeatedly tried to kill both me and my sister doesn't exactly endear you to me."

"Ah yes, both regrettable incidents that." Well, at least he hadn't come up with some kind of shallow excuse like that it was their job. While that pathetic reason might be true for the attempts on Buffy's life; it definitely wasn't for the events in Los Angeles.

"Of course," Dawn started without bothering to hide her disbelief. "I'm sure that you all regret your involvement in that matter."

"The outcome of that incident was indeed not what we had been hoping for. Of course, the fact that we might get a potential recruit of your potential might make up for that."

Ignoring the part of her working for them, Dawn spoke up again. "Not what you'd been hoping for? Is that why you lashed out like an angry child? Is that why you tried to kill me? Is that..." she trailed off. There was no point in saying more, in fact she had already shown too much emotion. She really should let one of the other personalities take over. Except... she feared what might happen if she did.

Of course, while allowing a personality to take over was out of the question, she might try something that wasn't as complete. She had done it before, although the results hadn't been what she'd call pretty, so she should be able to do it again.

Seeing that the Terakan was watching her friends, she closed her eyes for a moment. Faced with nothing but darkness Dawn was reminded of the dangers of this action, but she pushed through. Maybe one day she could do this without needing to focus, but for now it was still difficult. Like she'd done the day before, Dawn allowed all emotion to drain from her. Until nothing remained that could distract her from her current situation.

"Let's talk business then, shall we?"

The man turned around again and, upon seeing her emotionless eyes, blinked in surprise. This obviously wasn't something he'd expected. Just the way she liked it. "Interesting," he murmured before turning back to look at Dawn's friends.

"Walk."

"Of course," the man said in his oily voice. At least now he didn't have any real effect on her anymore. He set out, while she followed him closely. The fact that he was so trusting made her pay more attention to everyone around her, but if there was another Terakan around he was very good.

"No, the other bench," Dawn directed him away from her friends. She wanted them safe and out of the way. Her earlier request of them had laid the foundation for that, and by keeping the Terakan away she had done as much as she could for now.

"As you wish. You do realize I wouldn't hurt them unless you made a mistake, don't you?"

"Are you alone?" she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation in another direction, while they were walking over the playground.

He sighed at that. "I'm afraid so. You see, it was believed that the warning concerning your friends might make you do something stupid: like believing that only one messenger would need to return alive."

Well, at least the Terakans weren't stupid. That was exactly what she'd have ensured would happen. Not that she believed him about being alone. And even if he was, lowering her guard would be a bad thing. "What is your name?"

"Adrian, my lady. I'm flattered you asked me for it."

"Common decency would have made you give it to me when we met."

"And here I believed you didn't believe we could be decent."

They had finally passed through the group of children and she could act more like herself again. Or more how they would expect her to be. More how she was... Okay, that was something she shouldn't be thinking about. It was simply too complicated. "I don't."

The man, Adrian, sat down on the bench and without any hesitation she joined him on it. Not that she sat close to him, but she didn't want to look too out of place either. "Well then, let's get to business as you so kindly said" he started after a short silence had fallen.

"Indeed."

He shifted a bit on the bench, cementing her belief that he was nervous. Which was always a good starting position from her point of view. "Now, as you undoubtedly know it would be easy for us to take out anyone you care about."

Dawn nodded at that. Despite their unprofessional behavior where it had concerned Buffy, she had no doubt that there would be at least one Terakan capable of handling a sniper rifle. And even if a Slayer would be capable of dodging a bullet, she would at the very least have to know it was coming. Not to mention the fact that there were more ways to deal with someone without putting yourself in direct danger.

Yes, she had no doubt that if the Terakans really wanted someone she cared about dead, they would succeed. Even something as basic as a bomb in the school, or poisoning the food Jane would be eating was enough to do that. Repressing a mournful sigh, she tried to tear her attention away from those scary scenarios her mind so easily thought up and back to the assassin sitting near.

"Now, that was only a reminder, not something that any of us would like to see."

Dawn felt like telling him to get a move on, but opening her mouth she realized that would show impatience. A weakness she couldn't afford in these negotiations. Which made her change what she'd been about to say. "Of course not. If you failed to kill me as well, which would be highly likely, there wouldn't be anywhere you could hide."

Adrian seemed about to make a disparaging comment about that, but looking at her he suddenly blanched. Strange, that once again happened at the same time the other personalities reared their head. Could he feel them? Was he messing with her mind? Unobtrusively she slipped her hand in her pocket so that she could feel the calming presence of the watch. Picturing the scene the watch depicted in her mind, Dawn managed to calm down.

Exactly why the sight of the original Noir receiving a blessing from the High Priestess had that effect on her she didn't know. But it had, and it stopped her from decorating Adrian's forehead with a hole shaped like a bullet. While she had calmed down because of her actions, he had turned even whiter until he looked to the side. "We can do things you only dream about."

The trembling voice came very close to actually making her smile, and she enjoyed his weakness. Why had they sent this man? He obviously wasn't very good at using arguments to achieve what he wanted. Of course, if he was messing with her mind he wouldn't need to. This knowledge made her reconsider the actions she'd undertaken since he'd arrived, but Dawn doubted that he'd been able to really influence her.

"Sure. Do you expect me to claim I'm the stuff of nightmares now? That's a bit too Hollywood, don't you agree? Let's skip the boosting for now and move on to your demands. Once we've done that we can talk about mine."

Adrian wasn't listening to her though, and when Dawn turned her head to see what he was staring at her heart almost froze. Not even the fact that she was supposedly emotionless could stop her from showing the fear she felt where it concerned her future husband. "He's a friend of your sister, is he not?" the assassin asked, before turning to her with a smirk on his face.

He knew. She had given it away, with her heart in her throat she attempted to salvage the situation, but knew that it was already too late. "Yes." If she allowed this man to live, Xander would be in danger. And if she killed him, her friends would die. Was Xander worth the death of her friends?

No! She didn't wanted to even consider that thought. There had to be a middle road. If she allowed the man to live, it would take time before any action would be taken against Xander. Besides, Dawn realized, if she accepted whatever contract the Terakans had in mind she would keep him safe. Not that that was something she was looking forward to. She'd never even considered joining up with them, but if that was required to save the love of her life...

"And he is your lover?"

"What? I'm twelve you perv," Dawn lashed out, as for a moment fear and anger overcame reason. Not that she hadn't dreamed about it or anything, but she was far too young.

"People in our line of business don't have the luxury of waiting. You really should consider it, and if he doesn't want you. Well... I wouldn't turn you down." The leer he gave her was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention and she glowered back.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It."

"Why not? The two of us, in a nice little hotel room. I'm not that ugly, am I?"

Of course he wasn't ugly. For a moment the other personalities showed themselves again, and she realized that she'd actually scooted closer to Adrian. Well, that would work. Pissed of beyond reason, she didn't hesitate as her right hand flew out, suddenly bearing a knife and made to stab him.

He never had a chance as the knife sliced cleanly through the side of first his coat and then the underlying suit until she encountered the expected resistance and stopped. Despite all the other scents surrounding them, the single drop of blood that was freed by her action was something she had no problem recognizing by its smell. It wasn't important though, and she hissed her next words at the man. "The only reason you're not dead yet, is because that would endanger my friends. Try something like this again, and I might not remember to stop."

While he had at first been surprised by her action, it was obvious that Adrian was reasserting himself again. Moving his hands to the top of his coat he straightened it, before calmly speaking. "Please remove the knife. We both know that you won't kill me, and I'm willing to forgive your action."

Everything that she was, everybody who she was, and everything that she might become told her to shove the knife in, twist it around and then slice his throat. She wanted to see the blood stream from his arteries until she was bathing in his blood, she wanted to taste it, drink it, and enjoy the gurgling sound he would make during his final moments.

She wanted to rip him apart for everything he'd done to her, she wanted to feed his flesh to a rabid pack of dogs, and throw his bones behind an elephant taking a dump. Only after she'd licked the sweat of fear from his face though, that was something that she wanted to do as well. And after that she might as well follow his advice and find Xander. Tie him up in his bedroom and enjoy his body to its fullest extent.

It was that final thought that finally brought her out of the twisted fantasies and made her realize exactly what had happened. This was just like Los Angeles. Somehow that part of her mind had almost managed to gain control, and realizing that she immediately withdrew the knife. Nobody should have been able to see it, but she knew better than to make that kind of assumption.

"That's better," Adrian said, while taking a quick peek where she'd ruined his coat. He probably wasn't too happy about it, but Dawn couldn't possibly care any less. Besides, she'd already promised herself that one day she'd kill this failed baboon. He had been trying to find out where she would break. In hindsight it was so obvious; she was a possible danger and he wanted to see what it would take to make her act. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

All it had taken for her to lose control had been some mentions of her friends, her future husband, and statutory rape. Had it been of any use, she would have hit her head against the nearest wall in an attempt to beat some sense into it. How could she have been so stupid? First her reaction to Xander... Where was Xander? Scanning the pasture she attempted to locate him, and let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief as she noticed him with Jane and Sara.

Obviously her friends had intercepted him, and she didn't know how she could ever repay them for that. Had he come to her, he might have ruined the situation completely. Especially if he'd walked up while she'd been using her knife. From such a short distance he undoubtedly would have noticed it.

"What are your terms?" Dawn asked. She wasn't happy about asking this, in fact she loathed having to bargain from a position of weakness, but the lives of her friends were at stake. One day though. One day this little bastard and his merry friends would find out what it meant to anger Noir.

"The terms are quite simple really. We stay out of Sunnydale while you simply stay out of our way. No interfering with any of our missions: if you happen to be hired for the same job you'll let us handle it."

"And if I don't do any of that you'll kill me?"

"Your friends, after all we'd like to ensure you'd be suffering. Now, during the next few months you'll receive an invitation for a summer camp. You'll accept that."

She had a feeling what that camp would be, but she asked nonetheless. "A training program?"

"Yes. It will provide you with six weeks of intensive training that will bring you to a higher level of competence."

"And if I refuse?"

"Don't start acting silly, miss Summers. We both know that you won't refuse."

Right. Because if she did, she'd lose all of her friends. Well, despite Adrian's words she knew that they'd kill her first. There was simply no way that they'd allow her the possibility of revenge. "Anything else?"

"No, we decided to keep it simple for now. Other options, like the possibility of asking each other for help will be handled during your training."

"Alright," Dawn said, as she made one last attempt to regain some control on the situation. "I agree with these terms for now. However, if any of your kind is still in Sunnydale three hours from now I'll hunt that person down, and give him the experience of a lifetime. The last experience of his lifetime actually. And it won't be quick."

Having said those words she stood up and stalked to her friends. What she really wanted to do was to go somewhere she could be alone, and cry for the innocence she'd lost. She had just surrendered to the one group she couldn't afford to do that with. They would try to destroy her mind, that wasn't something she doubted. In fact, it was the one thing she was pretty sure about, but at least her friends would be safe.

Making sure she acted like a little girl without any real concerns in the world, Dawn smiled at the group as she reached them. "Hey guys, Xander."

x.x.x

Ducking a particularly nasty swing, Methos was impressed by his opponent's skill. Not something he was particularly happy about, as you should never be impressed by that, but the man was good. His first attack had been quickly deflected to the side, after which the two of them had started circling around each other. Each trying to gage the other's skill.

Methos knew he was probably unknown to the group, or that they at least had the wrong impression of him. Had they known exactly who he was they might actually have broken the rules and faced him three-to-one. But they didn't and so far they'd kept themselves to those rules. Well, to quote a certain movie character, from a certain point of view they had.

The sniper—snipers?—was only there to ensure they stayed here, and wouldn't interfere during the fight. At least, they hadn't so far and that was something Methos really hoped wouldn't change. After all, it was always possible that once he finally brought his opponent to his knees that instead of being rewarded with a Quickening for his hard work, he'd receive a bullet to the brain.

Or maybe the sniper would indeed wait until after all the fights had been finished before killing the four of them. Four, not five because the strange little assassin girl wasn't around anymore. And that after she'd made such a show of protecting her friend. Well, that showed you what that friendship really meant.

No. Don't pay attention to the girl. There was a fight going on that he should be focusing on. Taking a step closer to his opponent, the man took a similar step back. This was a dance they'd gone through several times already. His opponent clearly didn't want a direct confrontation, instead waiting for that one mistake that would let him end the existence of Methos.

At the start of the fight he'd attempted to corner the man, but it had proved unsuccessful as his opponent constantly circled around. That circling had given him the opportunity to check on the others though. Unfortunately they didn't seem to be doing very well either.

Amanda was clearly having difficulty with the strong Russian who, while not quite playing with her, was taking his time wearing her down. In Methos' opinion, the Immortal thief probably wouldn't last more than a couple of minutes now. Richie was doing a bit better, but, where Amanda's main problem was the strength of her opponent Richie had trouble where it concerned the experience of his opponent.

All three of these Immortals were good, and Methos realized that it would take quite a bit to get out of this alive. Quite a bit of luck, and quite a bit of skill. As his enemy finally attacked, he was ready and stepped just out of reach of the man's sword.

Not for long though. Once the sword had passed in front of him, Methos stepped forward and with a quick slash he opened the man's left arm. It didn't cause as big a reaction as he'd hoped, as his opponent only let out a slight hiss, but at least he'd scored his first hit.

Once again the two started circling, when suddenly he heard a cry from Amanda indicating she was in trouble. After having fought with a group for a thousand years he had learned to ignore that kind of sound though, so he didn't let it distract him.

His opponent on the other hand wasn't that experienced and spared a moment to look to the side with shining eyes. Methos had no idea what the man saw to make him smile like that and he didn't really care either. His opponent was distracted and that was enough to allow him to beat the man. Stepping in, he batted aside the sword while planting one of his knives in the man's heart.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, he then brought his hand back to his sword and using a two-handed grip he swung it before his opponent had even dropped to his knees. Once again experience had beaten youth. But he cursed himself for his reflexes. If he'd been satisfied with killing the Immortal he could have helped Amanda instead.

But that hadn't been possible, and now he prepared himself for the expected onslaught of lightning. Standing with his two feet planted firmly on the ground he took one last look at the situation, noticing the shocked faces of the attackers and the way the piece of fluff jumped between a wounded Amanda and her opponent. The woman wasn't actually considering taking over from Amanda was she?

He wanted to ask that question, but at that moment the first bolt of lightning struck and all Methos could think about was the pain.

x.x.x

She was crazy. No doubt about it, somehow hanging around Buffy and those other idiots had infected her. These thoughts and similar ones were racing through the head of Callidora, currently known as Cordelia Chase, as she faced the man who'd been enjoying taking his time to kill Amanda.

Yes, Amanda was hurt, but this would only serve as a pointless stay of execution. So why hadn't she been able to stop herself from trying to help her teacher? And trying to face the man herself was even worse as it would hasten her own demise! She should run away! There was no point in doing this. Run while the Quickenings were happening, run somewhere safe. Somewhere not here. Maybe her estate in Virginia. She could post guards there and if she remained inside she could easily remain there for decades without anyone reaching her.

Cordelia knew all of this, but nonetheless she stood her ground and looked at the surprised Russian bastard. The man who had not only tried to kill her teacher, but, more importantly, was behind the attacks on her as well. "What do you think you're doing? You're breaking the rules here."

Rules? Rules were for losers. Drawing her sword she answered his question nonetheless. "Let's dance asshole."

He only laughed, just as she had expected, but Cordelia didn't care. Moving into position she raised the tip of her beautiful sword and tried to find that peace inside of herself that she never quite managed. Enough was enough. Too many people had tried to kill her these past days and now she was going to repay the favor.

Anger was the main emotion she felt, but as she didn't believe in the Force she let it wash over her. Did she really think that? She had spent way too much time with Xander. No, focus on the anger not on cheating little- Cordelia allowed the anger to wash over her so that she could use it to fuel her determination. Determination that she would be the one to survive this fight. That she would be the one who took the Quickening of this, this, this piece of horse dung.

"Come on little girl, you may have been lucky up until now, but you're no good in a fight. Why don't you step aside while I take your teacher's head? You'll get your turn after that, but I don't want to run the risk that she gets away. You know how it is."

He didn't even pretend he was defending himself. Hah! She'd make sure he'd regret that. Not paying any attention to the Quickening that showed Death had proved his name, Cordelia attacked.

Her lunge was perfectly executed, but a quick move had been all the Russian bastard needed to deflect it. She had no intention of giving up though, and tried again, and again, and again. Lunge after lunge, strike followed by strike, but nothing came through. He was simply toying with her and the constant swinging with her sword was slowly starting to wear her down.

The man was right in one regard after all: she wasn't any good in a fight. She simply didn't have the constitution to keep something like this up for long. Was she going to give up then? No. Never. Holding her sword far tighter in her sweaty hand than was good she tried again, this time using a more suicidal attack.

A short distance had been opened up between the two of them, and she used it to gather speed until she was running at the man while trying to stick the sword in him. The scraping sound as her sword was directed to the side by her opponent's sword could probably be heard throughout Sunnydale, or so Cordelia believed, and when she herself was directed that way as well her scream of pain soon drowned it.

"Enough playing. Let's finish this," the Russian said while Cordelia was sitting on her knees in the grass of her own backyard. A coppery taste in her mouth told her that the single strike her opponent had executed had been far more effective than all her futile attempts. Spitting out some of the blood she refused to look at him, keeping her back to him.

She wasn't out of the game yet though, and, lessening the deathgrip on her sword until it was useful again, Cordelia prepared herself for that one chance that she'd have to take. That one chance that would come very soon now.

Listening very carefully she remained still until she believed the man to have approached close enough. The moment he had, she gathered all her strength. Jumping to her feet, she spun around with everything she had and swung her sword in a last desperate attempt to save herself.

It wasn't blocked. In fact, she discovered surprised, the sword actually hit the throat she'd been aiming for and while the swing didn't manage to decapitate him, there was no way he'd be able to beat her now. She had done it. She'd beaten him! "Take that you bastard."

There was no reply though, not that she'd expected it, but neither did his hands move to his throat in an attempt to close the gap there. His hands were placed over his heart instead, and his sword had been dropped to the ground as well. That was strange.

Looking into his eyes she noticed his surprise, but somehow she didn't think it was because of what she'd done. No, there was more to this. As the man than crashed to his knees and his hands fell away from his chest Cordelia noticed the wound there. The type of wound didn't immediately register with her, but when Richie's opponent suddenly staggered back as well she knew it was a gunshot wound.

Dawn. She couldn't imagine anyone else doing this. Not that she'd imagined Dawn could do something like this even twenty-four hours ago, but she doubted there were two people like her in Sunnydale. Still, who was she to deny such a gift? Not waiting any longer, and ignoring the pain from her own wound, she said the words that she believed in with all her heart. "There can be more than one. But you won't find out."

And she swung the sword to receive her second Quickening in as many days.

The world grew silent as the blue glow prepared itself for transfer to her body, but the calm before the storm didn't last long and when hell broke loose Cordelia wasn't prepared for it. The lightning as it struck her was painful, and every single strike was as painful as the previous one. The man, Boris she now realized, had been old. Maybe not quite as old as Amanda, let alone Methos, but he'd taken more heads than Cordelia's teacher had.

The Quickening lasted for minutes, hours, days. It wasn't long before she'd lost all concept of time and all she could think about was the feeling of the impacting strikes all over her body. Within moments the strikes of lightning blurred together, and Cordelia was lost in the pain as her entire body felt like it was on fire.

Finally, after it was all over, she found herself on all fours, breathing heavily and with no idea how much time had actually passed. Raising her weary head she looked to the side, there was a headless body. Oh yeah, Methos had taken that man's head before she had even started her desperate fight with Boris. Methos himself wasn't there anymore though, but looking to her left she spotted them all. Her hearing returned at that time as well and she tried to figure out what they were saying.

"-do that. He's defenseless. It's against the rules!"

"So's using a sniper Richie. And that's what they did. It may not be technically against the rules, but there isn't anything in the rules about not taking the head of a downed Immortal either."

Ah, she finally figured out what it was they were talking about. The other Immortal, the one who had been shot by Dawn. Like Boris had been. Once again she silently cursed herself for the stupidity of attacking him, until her thoughts were interrupted by the strong and soft hands of her teacher who was helping her to her feet. "You okay?"

It was difficult to even nod, but with a great exertion of her will she managed to even croak out an answer. "Yes."

"Thank you for what you did," Amanda told her.

"No problem."

"Why did you do it? Heroics aren't exactly your style."

Letting out a weak laugh, Cordelia answered that question. "No idea. Stupidity probably. Too many damn heroes around."

"Yeah, Adam uses that excuse as well."

"Great," she said, while directing taking a first careful step in the direction of the kitchen. She really couldn't care less what the other two would do to the Immortal. All she wanted now was a drink. Before she'd have to leave that is. Looking around she had a last look at the ruined garden. It had been so beautiful, but now it had gone the way of her living room.

As the step was a great success, she tried another and slowly but surely she made her way to the kitchen. Every step further into the house was a reminder of what had happened during the last couple of days though. At least she didn't have to face the bodies of Anthony and Patricia, because that would have made it even worse.

"At least we know why they hated you so much now," Cordelia said while walking through her house.

"No we don't," was the unexpected answer.

"What?"

"He said I seduced him into helping me acquire something in New Delhi. I haven't even been near India for over two decades!"

That didn't make any sense. "Pardon?"

Amanda shrugged. "I've done many things people could be angry about, but I never did what he claimed. Somebody must have lied to him about it."

But why would anyone do that? They had reached the kitchen by then though and as Cordelia poured herself a big glass of orange juice she offered her teacher some as well.

"No thanks."

Shrugging, she put the pack back in the fridge and took her first draught. Oh that was good. Nothing in the world could possibly compare to this. The fresh feeling of the liquid smoothed her throat again and doing so cleared her head as well. Deciding she didn't want to think about whatever had happened anymore, she focused her attention elsewhere. Noticing how Amanda's clothes looked, it didn't take her long to fall back into old patterns.

"You look horrible. You should take a shower upstairs, even in Sunnydale I don't know how much time we have before someone comes to check it out. At least we're early enough that Buffy probably isn't awake yet, but you never know if one of her loser friends has called her."

"Buffy?" Amanda asked, obviously not bothered by Cordelia's valid concerns about her appearance.

"The Slayer. Dawn's sister, remember? I mentioned her before. If she finds out something happened here she won't waste any time on looking good. Not that she ever dresses well; it's hard to believe she actually lived in Los Angeles."

"Of course," Amanda answered, and why did she have a feeling like the woman was only trying to placate her? Noticing the way her hand was trembling she put the glass of juice back on the counter.

"Anyway, there is a lot that still needs to be done. Some things I want to keep, and there's no way I'll manage to get out of this miserable town without anyone noticing. Bloody Wilkins, it would've been so much easier if I could've bought some people to make them forget about all of this."

"Yes Cecilia."

"You're leaving?" came from behind her, and Cordelia spun around to see Dawn standing there carrying a briefcase. Probably containing the rifle or something. Wasn't that how they transported those things on television?

"Yes. I wouldn't have stayed here for more than a couple of months at most anyway. This only moved the date forward a bit."

"But why? You're my friend."

The confused tone made it clear to Cordelia that despite everything her friend had done, Dawn was still only a little girl. "I know honey and I'll miss you too. But I don't have a choice."

For a moment it looked like Dawn was about start crying, but she visibly stopped herself from doing that. "Why?"

While the girl might have managed to to stop the tears, her voice was still so full of anguish that Cordelia almost had to cry herself. Opening her eyes she gathered the girl in a hug while whispering the reasons in her ear. "It's the curse of my race. We can never stay long in the same place, and you must realize that too much has happened the last couple of days."

"We can clean it up. Just like we did yesterday. If we get rid of the evidence, nobody will be able to prove anything." It was obvious that the girl was trying to grasp at every possible straw, just like it was obvious that she didn't believe her own words.

"No Dawn. Not this time."

"Why do all my friends leave?" Dawn leaned back in order to look Cordelia in the eyes while she asked this with a plaintive voice. "Am I so bad? Doesn't anyone like me anymore?"

That was when it actually hit Cordelia. Dawn never had many friends, and now that she was leaving Sunnydale only one of them remained here. And for Dawn there could never be a difference between how she acted and who she was. "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

Once again she gathered her friend in her arms and while doing so she turned her own eyes to Amanda, who looked just as sad as she probably did herself. The curse of their race, she reminded herself. It was something she'd get over in time. It might not happen overnight, but several centuries from now she would undoubtedly be able to think about this day without crying.

The familiar sound of a Quickening then drew her attention outside again. Obviously Methos and Richie had come to an understanding about the fate of the man. The other curse of her race.

x.x.x

Walking into this building always made him feel insignificant. Something that had no doubt been the intention of the designer. Despite his loathing of that feeling, Adrian kept up the front of pleasantness he always wore.

The upcoming meeting was an important one, and it would probably influence his future. Finally he would get to hear why he'd had to go to the Hellmouth to talk to what he'd at first assumed was a typical young girl. At least that was one assumption he'd gotten over.

Shuddering at the memories of his conversation with Dawn Summers, he continued on through the magnificent hallway. In his opinion the girl was far too dangerous to stay alive and his recommendation would reflect that. Not that he believed his opinion would be asked, but if it was he'd do his best to convince them he was correct.

Yes, she'd make an excellent addition to the Order, but there was something about her that really set him on edge. Something that he hadn't felt in the almost fifty years he'd been alive. Fifty years, he really was starting to get old. Fifty. Shaking his head, he went through a door that would once again bring him closer to his goal.

He would turn fifty in only a couple of months. Which meant it was about twenty-five years since he'd stopped his aging process. That left him with about the same amount of time to find something that would offer him true immortality. Looking twenty-five your entire life was not a bad thing, especially with his looks, but the spells that kept him that way would one day be the ones that killed him.

Life was difficult, and staying alive even more so. Even if it meant he might die sooner, he would never regret his choice in that matter. It always surprised him that people thought of the really powerful wizards and mages as old men.

Well, not so much the fact that they had lived a long time, as that was required to gain enough power, but that they invariably looked old. It never made any sense to him. What use was being powerful if you couldn't get any chicks with it? A thin smile crossed his lips at that thought, chicks. Hanging around the younger crowd obviously ensured he used their terms as well.

Not that he minded, oh no. Far from it. In fact, he enjoyed his time immensely. Every time he went out to spend the night with a young nubile woman he'd learn some new terms. Whether it was at the club he picked her up, while he was pounding into her, or while he was sacrificing her to the beings that kept him young. Of course, he only had to sacrifice someone on a monthly basis but that didn't mean he couldn't do the other things more often.

"Master!"

The shouted word made him turn around, until he noticed her. Ah, his pet project. The beautiful woman came running towards him, and he felt a stirring in his loins as he reminded himself what she looked like underneath that robe. As she threw herself on him he used the wall to steady himself. It wasn't long before she wrapped her long, smooth, legs around him and they were engaged in a passionate kiss.

Entering her mind he checked to see if there was anything he should be concerned about. One of the younger recruits of the Order had made a pass at her. He frowned as he realized that. How dare that lowlife make use of his absence? A curling of the lips that were plastered against his made him realize that she knew what he was doing, and that there probably was more to it.

Delving deeper into the mind he'd shaped into its present beautiful state, Adrian looked around carefully for more information on that subject. This woman truly was magnificent in that regard. When he'd discovered her almost twenty years ago, he had immediately recognized not only her power, but the pliant mind as well.

Entering her mind and bending the little girl to his will had been a magnificent experience, and one he'd hoped to repeat on the Summers girl. Over the years he'd molded her so that he hardly noticed a difference between her mind and his own, something that enabled him to do what he was doing now.

Ah, there it was. The scene unfolded before his mind's eye and when it did he gripped his mental slave with all his strength. The strangled cry that was a mix of pain and pleasure could probably be heard throughout the entire building, but he didn't care. She had actually accepted the fool's proposition! Despite the way she was rubbing against him now, he lost his earlier arousal. She was tainted.

Not that he was certain yet that she'd actually had sex with the boy, but it sure looked that way. She had invited him to a quiet place, where she'd promised him that he'd get to enjoy all of his fantasies. He had to know what she'd done!

He broke off the kiss, and while she arched her back in pain at his powerful intrusion in her mind, he shattered whatever natural barriers she had left. Nothing would be hidden from him. Nothing. And if he found out that she'd betrayed him, he would leave her mind an empty husk.

Every time he encountered a piece of fiction that mentioned abilities similar to his, it always seemed to indicate that people had structured minds. That it was possible to gather the required knowledge within moments. It almost made him want to talk to whatever idiot had thought that up. Thoughts had structure, that was true. But they were fragmented and each memory had another trigger that needed to be called.

Going through Summers' mind had been even more difficult than usual, something that probably had to do with whatever training she'd received. But even here, in a mind that was shaped by him since the girl was four years old, it was difficult to find the right memory. The sounds she made as he mentally raped her were easily ignored, but a mind always protected itself by throwing around distractions.

At other times the distractions she threw up would have worked, it was always interesting to see her reaction to their bedroom games. Not this time though, and as he crashed on Adrian was already starting to remove certain things from her mind. Memories and thoughts he had tolerated for a while, but were now becoming too dangerous. If she had betrayed him like this...

She hadn't betrayed him. The sudden revelation as he encountered the memory shook him out of his anger, and he let go. Both physically and mentally. She fell to the floor in a heap of bones and flesh, but he knew she'd live through it. He had done worse to her in the past, all he had to do later on was remove her memories of this event. After she'd healed herself that was, he didn't want to be bothered by her questions. "Why?"

The simple question ought to be enough, and as she looked at him with hurt, yet obedient, eyes she didn't hesitate to answer. "I wanted to surprise you."

"But why?" It wasn't the fact that she'd allowed the fool to fall in his own trap that bothered him. Nor did the way she'd stripped the flesh of his bones, using nothing but her mind. It wasn't the first time she'd done something like that, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last time either as sacrificing someone like that pleased his benefactors very much.

Lowering himself to his knees, he bent over her body to check if she was alright while listening to her explanation. "I wanted to show you how strong I've become. I wanted to thank you for all you've done for me and thought you might enjoy this."

Oh, he had enjoyed the sight. The memories of how she'd followed the fool to his bedroom where she undressed him weren't ones he really cared for, but the way she had changed her behavior once the fool's back had been turned... It was from her perspective that he watched how she jumped on the man's back and forced him on the bed.

The man, Adrian didn't even know the man's name, had at first thought she was merely into some rough sex, but before he'd been able to touch any of her private parts she'd gouged out his eyes. Used her nails to damage them, before actually popping them out of their sockets. That was when the real fun started.

"But if you hadn't tried to hide it from me, you wouldn't have suffered this much. I'm so sorry," he said while kissing her again. For a moment he lost himself in the coppery taste of the blood, but not for long. Once again he entered her mind while they were kissing and he started making some alterations to her memories of these events.

It took a while before he was finished, and in that time he'd expanded his explorations of her body with his hands. Having her in a good mood and not focused on the pain made it so much easier to do what he wanted. When he was done however, he removed his hands from the soft globes they were caressing and breaking the kiss he looked into eyes filled with desire. Yes, she wanted more.

"Please?" she begged, wanting to feel him inside her so badly. Seeing her half-naked body spread out so willingly before him in the hallway made him wonder why he'd waited until she was fourteen before he took her for the first time. It also made him wonder how she'd look lying next to Summers. That girl was out of the question though. He wouldn't have cared about her age this time around, but she was obviously far too dangerous.

"Later," Adrian promised before dipping his hand between her legs and collecting some of the sweet nectar there. Licking his fingers clean, he felt the arousal rise even more in his beautiful slave, and he bent down one last time to share the delicious taste in a kiss.

"Why later?" she murmured.

"I need to report first. When I'm done with that we can play."

"You didn't bring her, did you?" she asked a bit disappointedly.

Oh god, how well he'd molded her. She would have enjoyed helping him break Summers in. Once again the sight of the two of them engaged in a passionate encounter entered his mind, and it was only with difficulty that he managed to dispel it. No, that simply wouldn't work. Of course, those two friends of Summers hadn't been ugly either, and once their protection was removed he might just make a trip to Sunnydale and collect them.

Yes, that was a good plan. To do that he really had to explain why she had to die though, and he couldn't do that from here. "No, but I'll find someone else you can play with."

She pouted at that. "But she's pretty, and strong. I want her."

"You can't have her," Adrian shrugged after rising to his feet again. "Now I really have to go though. Go to my room, and wait there for me."

Lowering her eyes, his slave acknowledged the command. "Yes master."

Nodding in a way that was meant to convey his happiness with her behavior, he raked his eyes over her disheveled form for a moment. "And heal yourself, I don't like seeing you like this."

"Yes master."

Knowing his commands would be executed, Adrian turned away from the young woman and continued his journey. Part of his thoughts were still with the young witch, but most of his attention was on the upcoming meeting. After joining the Order he'd met with the Highest, as he liked to think of the group who ruled them, only once. That had been after he'd been ordered to investigate one of his colleagues, and seeing what happened to that colleague after his betrayal had been confirmed was enough incentive for him not to do anything stupid.

After all, he might be ambitious but the Highest were so much older and more powerful than him that it simply wasn't funny. No, he shuddered, betrayal wasn't something he'd try. Still, he hoped that this assignment had been a step in the right direction. That maybe he would gain more influence with his peers, or even move to a higher position. Maybe a regional coordinator. The current one for the United States was starting to lose his touch. As was obviously demonstrated by the way he'd handled the situation with Summers and her sister.

Yes, gaining a position like that would be a good thing. By then Adrian had reached the massive wooden doors though, and not seeing anyone he stood in front of them. This was the waiting room, but whether it was due to the many different shapes the members came in or to make a point about the visitor's position, there were no chairs he could sit in.

Immersing himself in his thoughts, he tried not to notice the passing time. Instead focusing on what he'd tell the Highest once he was allowed to enter the room. After going over that again, his thoughts once again returned to his slave.

He could still clearly remember finding her, then a tiny four-year-old girl. Her parents had been his targets and, after completing the mission as competently as he always did, he'd been leaving the bedroom where he'd handled his task. Opening the door, he'd encountered the confused little girl who had been about to enter the room.

Even at such a young age she'd felt that something was wrong, which was the reason she was out of her bed. A very impressive feat for someone that young, and when she'd seen him and her dead parents she hadn't hesitated for a second. If her feelings had impressed him, the way he was sent flying through the room by the angry kid was even more so.

Of course, while a single burst of raw power was impressive in a way, it was nothing compared to the skill and powers he commanded. Still, while he knew his life was in no amount of danger he'd been about to strike back. Nobody hurt him like that and lived. Focusing his mind on the girl's, Adrian had been about to erase her mind like he'd done with her parents when he realized something and stopped.

Why kill her, when he could make use of her? She was powerful and he could use someone like that. Someone who could protect him while he was paying attention to other things. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd taken the decision to keep her alive, but he was glad he had. Having her present had saved his life during several missions and for the past several years it had made his nights more enjoyable as well.

So instead of destroying her mind, he'd changed it. Had taken the first step to molding it the way he wanted it. Her hatred of him for killing her parents had been turned into unconditional love, and within moments he'd found a little girl buried in his arms, clinging to him as if he was the only person in the world. That had been a very pleasant moment, and thinking back on it once again brought up another issue. Should he give her a name?

The original name her parents had given her had been removed from her mind during the first week they'd been together, and he'd never actually replaced it with anything else. But, he figured, what did she need a name for? He could communicate with her quite easily without it, and there was no need for her to talk to anyone else. Her entire life was built around him, and would remain that way.

"You are summoned."

The words made him look up from where he'd been staring at the carpet, and he met the eyes of the being before him. As always when he met someone's eyes, he tried to enter this beings mind, only to be kicked out of it harshly. Staggering back in almost physical pain, Adrian looked at the creature, not even bothering to hide the amazement he felt.

Impossible! There hadn't been any barriers or anything, and yet... he'd been kicked out.

"It is unwise to let them wait."

Taking one last good look at what had to be a member of a demonic species he wasn't familiar with, he resolved to not try that again at any of his kind. Well, no. That wasn't true and he knew it. He wouldn't try it again until he'd found more about them. A species that was slightly shorter than humans, had a slightly orange-looking skin, and big red eyes shouldn't be that hard to find information on.

"I'm going," Adrian answered what he figured was a raised eyebrow. Creatures without eyebrows should not make movements like that.

This time when he stepped forward the doors opened by themselves and he was faced with a black hallway. Having gone through this before he didn't hesitate and stepped into the darkness that became complete when the doors closed behind him.

Despite knowing that it would happen, he froze. This was always the problem with old people, they were traditionalists and thought theater was important when it came to things like this. Putting out his hands in front of him he started walking until he finally encountered the doors on the other side.

Banging on these doors he then loudly proclaimed the words that would hopefully grant him entrance. Although he couldn't help but remember another time when he'd watched a colleague do the same thing. He hadn't been granted entrance. In fact, he had died on the spot. Painfully. Once again Adrian tried to remember if the man had been a friend of him. According to his memories he hadn't even really known him, but this was something on which he didn't trust his memory.

Somebody had altered his memory about those events and the only thing he didn't know was whether he'd done it himself, or if someone else had. That wasn't important now though, he needed to concentrate on his report. "I have come as summoned."

He knew what would come next, although not even closing his eyes helped against the harsh light that suddenly flooded the room. Blinking in a futile attempt to clean his vision, he heard the doors open and looking through the opening Adrian saw a small group of beings sitting at a large table.

"Come in, Adrian," the words came. "We have been anxiously awaiting your report. Sit down."

Recognizing a command when he saw one, he did as told and sat down opposite the Highest. "Thank you sir."

"Tell us, what were your conclusions?"

Now that he could see a bit better again, Adrian looked around and was a bit surprised to see someone else present. Well, judging by the way it seemed to be bowing to the Highest he clearly wasn't one of them. A command had been given though, and he focused on that. "We should kill her, she's far too dangerous."

"A clear opinion. What facts have you based your information on?"

"I have spoken extensively to the girl, and while at first sight she seems to be a normal teenager, that impression was quickly shattered when she instantly recognized me for what I was."

"Her skills are as great as we believe?"

"Undoubtedly. I haven't seen her in action, but she seemed more than competent."

"Interesting," came the strange, white cloud that masked the Highest before it shifted a bit. They were probably discussing it between themselves, and he waited patiently until they asked him for a full report on the events.

"Having verified her location in the house of one of her friends, I awaited her arrival in one of the town's parks," Adrian started his story. With all the questions that were asked of him, it took him over an hour to explain everything in terms they could understand, but he was eventually successful.

"And your reading of her. Did you feel anything about her?"

"A mixture of emotions, although she quickly curbed them, was almost the only thing I got. I only attempted one intrusion as she detected it, and the only thing I received there was an unclear memory."

This seemed to interest them, and one of the Highest spoke up. "Describe this memory."

"It was a bit strange, it wasn't something she did, although she was very familiar with it." Licking his suddenly dry lips, he tried to ignore the stares from the Highest. "There were paintings, statues, and even an image on a watch. They were all the same and it seemed like part of a ritual. A woman was blessing two girls, each of them only half-dressed and carrying a sword."

"Two girls?" another member of the Highest spoke up. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, they were on their knees and facing each other while the woman blessed them."

"It is as we feared," the same voice said. "They have managed to hide themselves from us, and now one of their saplings has been let loose on the world."

"Agreed. She must be taken care of immediately."

"No, we can not risk the prophecies."

"Are we certain that concerns her? It could be another sapling."

"Another sapling? We will have enough problems dealing with this one."

While his head moved from speaker to speaker, Adrian wondered what they were talking about. It didn't make a lot of sense to him, but he figured that the girl might be part of something else. Interrupting the discussion to ask what they were talking about was something he really didn't dare though.

"There are always two."

"No, two who graduate. There are more saplings."

"She could be the only one."

"The prophecy."

"We must know more. Grietslaw, what did you discover?"

The strange little creature spoke up for the first time, and Adrian shivered as its shrill voice immediately got on his nerves. "She does indeed travel to other worlds, I have not been able to ascertain how she does this though. The method she uses is complex, only sending a copy of herself to this other world. Wounds that are experienced there do have an effect though, although it seems limited."

"Can she be killed on those worlds?"

"As I stated in my earlier report, I believe she can. She only retains scars from the wounds she receives on those worlds, but if the wound is severe enough it should kill her."

"Good. How much control does she have over her travels?"

"At the moment she believes them to be merely dreams that have been magically altered. She believes that someone else is influencing her dreams, which means she has no control at all."

This seemed to surprise the Highest, and him as well. How could anyone not know they were using a magic as powerful as that? Crossing dimensional boundaries was supposed to be one of the hardest things that could be done with magic. And, if he understood the conversation correctly, Summers regularly did this.

"She does not know? How can this be?"

"I believe she subconsciously accesses a power that is inherent to her. How this is possible I can't explain, although theoretically it might be done if she has a split personality."

"Adrian?"

His turn again. "It is possible that she suffers from what some people call split personalities. It would explain the way she discovered my presence in her mind and how she was able to counter my suggestions. There might be completely different reasons for those events though."

"It might be possible that she doesn't yet know who she truly is," one of the Highest mused.

"That they repressed her training? Yes, that is possible. Although it doesn't explain the dimensional crossings."

"Talking about the dimensional crossings," a member of the Highest spoke up while focusing on the small being again. "In your report last week you stated that you would try to follow her to one of those worlds."

"I did and I have. The past week I've used the connection that she created to follow her several times. Each was in the same world, and I attempted to influence the events around her. I was incapable of influencing her or those closest to her directly. I was however able to alter the world in such a way that she was put in mortal peril. Alas, of the three attempts on her life that I'd set up none succeeded."

"Details," came the curt order from the Highest.

The creature nodded, and started a longer explanation in that same annoying shrilly voice. What it came down to was that one of Summers' friends had natural enemies, whatever he meant with that, and that one of them had only needed the friend's location before attacking. When that attempt had failed he'd recruited a group of mercenaries to take out that friend, and Summers who remained with her after the earlier attempt.

That group had come close, but once again didn't succeed. A final attempt had then involved the friend's teacher and a complicated plot to make that teacher suffer. For that he'd been more pro-active in that he'd altered the memories of several people. In doing so they started hating the teacher, although that teacher would have no idea of what was going on.

"Hold on, the timing doesn't work. You keep talking about doing something and then making something happen at an earlier time. Are you telling it wrong, or what?"

The look he received from the creature was so insolent that the only reason it remained alive was the fact that Adrian didn't want to kill in front of the Highest. "It was another dimension, or world if you prefer."

"So?"

"I was able to alter the world to suit my needs. Her arrival was enough to upset the natural balance of the world anyway, and I made use of that."

Oh, so the time-travel was only a side-effect sort of thing? Well, that made no sense at all to him, but he could live with it. It was at that moment that one of the Highest spoke up again. "The evidence concerning Dawn Summers of Sunnydale, California seems to indicate something we had hoped to prevent from happening. Are we agreed on this?"

The way the other Highest spoke up made it clear to Adrian that this question at least wasn't meant for him. And when another of the Highest continued he was lost completely. "We must have a plan. According to the prophecy all those who oppose her directly will perish."

"The prophecy doesn't state that she will survive those attempts."

"Agreed. Sacrifices can be made, but we must not draw undue attention to ourselves."

"No members of the Order must attack her directly."

"We must adhere to the treaty we set up."

"Our assault can continue in the worlds she travels to."

"There is more," yet another member of the Highest spoke up. "We must prevent her from traveling to the country named France."

"Agreed. The Worldtraveler may not gain access to the prophecies."

"Shall we undertake action against the villagers?"

"No. If they trained the Worldtraveler they might have trained another. We cannot take that risk."

"We must have access to more of the prophecies. The fragments we have may be misleading. We need to read the prophecies of Light and Darkness."

"They are not relevant to this timeline."

"Only a short time has passed since the attempt on the Slayer failed. It might still come to pass."

"No. We need to focus on the other prophecies, those of the Worldtraveler."

"Agreed. That is the more likely timeline."

"The events that decide between them are difficult to foresee. We must know about both."

Adrian listened in amazement to the discussion between the members of the Highest, and not for the first time he wished that he could see their expressions. The discussion here was very intensive and he was pretty sure that for some reason these people feared Summers. A reason that probably had to do with those villagers they'd mentioned.

"We can not risk any direct interference. Grietslaw's proposed way of achieving the desired goal seems possible though. While he has not achieved the ultimate goal, using agents on other worlds appears a useful way of dealing with her."

"Can we expect this to be successful on every world? Should she recognize our hand in those matters, the results might be disastrous."

"Do we have a choice in the matter?"

"No. She needs to be dealt with. It will also be to our advantage to discover how she is capable of breaching the dimensional barriers."

The discussion continued but, before a plan on how to deal with Summers was actually made, the Highest send Adrian out of the room. While he was a bit disappointed about that, he was more than honored he'd been allowed to be present during the discussion itself.

His leaving once again involved the trek through the darkness, and if it hadn't been for his self-control he'd have let out a sigh of relief when he stepped through the heavy wooden doors. Halting for a moment, he blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust his eyes to the returned light and froze when he noticed the demon who'd ordered him inside. "What are y-"

….…

Blinking heavily, Adrian tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden return of light. Well, he'd come through the meeting in one piece and now he really should go and find his little slave for some enjoyment. Too bad that the Highest had decided not to immediately kill Summers. In fact, for some reason they'd decided that no members should be allowed to go to Sunnydale. Of course, in his opinion that meant they would allow non-members like his beautiful slave to go there.

Thinking back on the meeting he couldn't help but shiver at the sheer power that came from the Highest. Sitting there all alone in that room, with nobody but the Highest, had been a very impressive experience. The way they made their decisions in unison was simply amazing. A unity like that almost made it appear as if a single person was making the decisions.

There were some irregularities though, he suddenly discovered. Oh, there had probably been some information that he was better of not remembering. Just like the other time. While he didn't like the fact that he couldn't remember what he'd erased from his mind, or even why he did, Adrian was more than willing to acknowledge the fact that he probably made the correct choice in that regard.

For a fleeting moment he considered the possibility that somebody else had altered his memories, but laughing out loud he discarded that idea. No, there was nobody here who could shut him out, let alone go through his mental shields.

Now that this assignment was over though, it was time for some fun. Whistling in happiness he walked down the hallway in the direction of his chambers. First he would enjoy his slave alone, and then in the evening they could go out and grab themselves a nice looking woman for some additional fun.

Oh yes, he really shouldn't forget to propose the idea to her that she should go have some fun with Summers and her friends. If he set up a mental block that stopped her from remembering her connection to the Order that shouldn't be a problem.

* * *

The end. Next story will come. Eventually.

Allen Pitt, Darklight, and Bob-from-Accounting thank you for your reviews.

Replies. Yes, Dawn can do a lot to Buffy while still looking innocent, and when it's appropriate she will do that. Now, about the book. The Game wasn't in it, as shown by the fact that Dawn had no idea it even existed at the beginning of this story, but Methos showing up in it is something that is more than likely to happen in my opinion. To the Watchers at the time (the ones connected to Slayers) the Four Horsemen must have appeared like demons. No remorse, taking pleasure in the act of killing, and unable to die. I'm pretty sure that it would be quite easy to write a story about a Slayer sent out to take care of them.

Not that I plan on writing that, but I know it's possible. And then we once again come to the wish... Somehow during the course of posting this story, the ideas for that story have grown. Gee, I wonder why. I'll probably write more background than I'd originally planned, but I'm sure nobody will really mind. There is another, probably darker, world that I'll write about first though and we'll see how much you'll like that one. That story is still four stories away though, and the Wish one is even further. Because you are also right that I'll move slowly up along the timeline. Exactly till where? I don't know yet. So far I've only planned the next 14 stories which bring it to about half-way through season 4.

Anyway, I hope everybody liked it. I can't say for sure when the sequel will come, but there should be another story before long.


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